Anywhere
by wolfbones17
Summary: Sequel to "The Things We Feel". Renee Walker moves to California with Jack. T rating is for language and adult themes, nothing graphic.
1. Chapter 1

Writer's Note: I really appreciate everyone reviewing these stories. :) Hope you guys like this one.

* * *

Chapter One

It's hard, letting him in. I mean, I don't mind Jack seeing my good points. I want him to know, to think, that I'm smart and attractive. It's everything else – where I've lived, how I've lived, since trying to kill myself, that I'm not too happy about him knowing. But I'm moving with him to California, and to do that, there are some things I just won't leave behind. And when he asked me to let him come, I couldn't say no.

So here we are, walking up to the second floor of a shabby, run-down apartment complex on the outskirts of New York. The hallway is narrow and the ceiling is low. Okay, the place is a dump, but it has all the necessities and is basically operational, even if it isn't pretty. "I'm not sure where my key ended up between the Russians and running from our own military," I say before I unapologetically kick in the door.

"I don't think you're going to get your deposit back," Jack replies. "Although I think charging someone to live here is a crime in itself."

"It's not that bad." When he raises an eyebrow skeptically, I amend, "Okay, so the water heater can take an hour to work and the door occasionally jams…"

"Why here?"

I run a hand raggedly through my hair. "It's cheap and the owner doesn't mind late payments. It was perfect while I was between work…" Suddenly unable to meet his eyes, I look around and go down the hall to the closet that really qualified as more of a crevice, and pulled out a duffel bag. "I won't be long," I mutter.

"Take your time," Jack says. "We have all day."

I'd donated most of my furniture and left my roomier, more expensive apartment after Andy found me. I couldn't stand that little kid's haunted eyes every time he looked at me. I took only the things I needed, and the few things I couldn't bear to part with. As it is, I own no couch, T.V., computer, coffee table, or kitchen table. I ate my meals at the desk in my room when I could bear to eat, and read on my bed or went for a run when I could bear to do something.

I stuff clothes in my duffel first – jeans, bras, underwear, shirts. I don't have any fancy clothing, either; I don't want any. I grab my favorite sweater off the back of my chair.

Once my clothes are packed, I pause, and my eyes drift to the bedroom closet. In a box in the corner of the top shelf is a black zip-up jacket with the white letters "F.B.I." emblazed across the left breast. I couldn't throw it away when I left, but I can't wear it either. I'm wondering whether I should take it or not when Jack walks in, a photograph in hand. "Is this your family?"

My eyes fall to the small 4x6, which I had kept lodged between the rows of my mother's old spice rack on the kitchen counter. My father and mother are beaming at the camera, with my six-year-old self between them. "Part of it," I answer, and look away.

He taps the photograph against his fingers. "You know, you don't have to do this, Renee."

Dread slips into my voice before I can catch it, as I say, "Move?"

"No – I mean, well, you don't have to do that either, but I meant that you don't have to squeeze stuff into one small duffle. We can fly out later, and then you won't have to pick and choose what you want to bring." Jack steps up to me and brushes my hair behind my ear. "You don't need to rush this," he finished softly.

I give him a half-smile. "I know, okay? I do. But Jack – really, except for a few things, the stuff I've got here is just…stuff. I only want to bring what really matters to me."

His gaze softens. "Okay. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm almost done." But my eyes wander to the closet again. "Actually…" He looks back to me. "There's a box of books out by the fireplace. Could you grab the paperbacks from it?"

"Sure." He nods and leaves the room.

I step into the closet and reach for the box. I have to jump to slap it closer, and then I tug it down and take it to my bed. I haven't yet decided what I'm going to do with it, but as my fingers remove the box and unwrap the tissue paper, I hope that the right choice will somehow reveal itself.

The pristine letters glare up at me, somberly. It no longer feels like the jacket is mocking my treachery, but it does represent the proverbial elephant in the room – how far I've fallen, how everything I cared about just fell to shambles.

"Hey, I've got those books."

Almost everything, I realize. And I know what I'm doing with the jacket.

"I only saw four, these are the right ones, right?" Jack walks up to me and proffers the stack. I knew which ones they were before I even looked.

"_Tom Sawyer_, _The Oedipus Cycle_, _Call of the Wild_, _The Jungle Books_?" I ask, without looking away from the jacket. I stare at it, not understanding how easy my decision is. Where are the ties I felt to this thing? They were there. I can still feel the remnants of the meaning this jacket had to me, but it's like it's a family member that lives far away – there, but not there.

"Renee?" I meet his eyes, and he looks between me and the box, a question in his expression.

I fold the tissue paper back over the jacket and put the lid back on. I do this carefully, reverently. As though I were closing the lid to the casket of my past. I give a half-laugh at my melodrama.

I turn to him and loop my arm through his. "Let's go."

I leave the boxed jacket behind, on my bed, as a testament to the values I once held.


	2. Chapter 2

Writer's Note: I had to edit one small detail in chapter 1. I had a blonde moment and wrote down the wrong title for one of the books, and the title I'd written didn't make sense for the background I was trying to establish. So _Oliver Twist_ became _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_. Sorry for the mix-up. :) As for the other books, I tried to make my explanation of The _Oedipus Cycle _as easy to understand without going unneccessarily into detail. If you guys need elaboration to understand the connection Renee feels to the Oedipus character, I'll post more info in chapter three's writer's note. :) I thank you all for your reviews! I really appreciate the feedback.

* * *

"Tell me about Tom Sawyer," Jack says suddenly.

We're at the airport, waiting to board. My duffel's small enough to take as a carry-on, so it sits at my feet. I look down to where _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_ is peeking out of the side pocket. "You've never read _Tom_?"

"I did, a long time ago. I remember the basics of it."

Then he wants to know why I'm carrying it around. I don't blame him for being curious – it's an odd assortment of books, and I don't even particularly like half of them. "My dad used to call Tom Sawyer his 'seven-year-old twin' when I was younger. Since I had to know what my dad was like at my age, I checked out the book and reread it over and over. Eventually my dad took pity on the librarian that always had to get it for me every week, and gave me a copy."

Jack snorts, amused. "And _Call of the Wild_?" he asks. "I liked that book, too. It was the only book I liked – my mom kept trying to get me to read other stuff, but I think she was just secretly glad that I liked _something_."

"I read an excerpt of it for class when I was in…fifth grade? You know how they take parts of books and put them in the textbook for some educational purpose?" He nods. "Well, I completely zoned out on the point of the lesson, but I was completely fascinated by Buck's story. I had to keep reading it."

He nods, and I don't think I need to explain my fascination. Maybe it's the same thing that got him interested – the need for survival, the lust of the fight. But it's the way people batter innocent things until those things…dogs, loyal and trusting animals…are vicious and savage…that we relate to now.

Because we're those loyal dogs, Jack and I, and our lives…our jobs…which might as well be the same thing…are our masters, making us vicious and savage to get the job done.

* * *

We're just finding our seats when Jack asks about _The Oedipus Cycle_. I knew our conversation wasn't quite over…and I'm just glad he hasn't touched the topic of that photograph. Books, I can talk about with minimal damage. There was a small family reference and that was it. But the photograph, that's going to unleash a flood. Eventually I'll tell him about my family. Eventually.

"I found Oedipus when I was fourteen," I say. "Actually, I couldn't care less about Oedipus, but I was obsessed with Antigone, his daughter. Her uncle was the new king and didn't want her brother buried. But she went and buried him anyway, and was enclosed in a tomb to kill herself. She stuck to what she believed in, and that's what I admired about her. I thought her father was a stupid old coot, though." I laugh, and the sound is hollow. "But in recent years I've reread his story dozens of times, reconsidering him. And I realized that I'm just like him. I pushed too hard and I looked too deep, and I only ended up hurting myself in the end."

"Hey." He covers my hand with his. "Look at me." I do, and he's giving me this look that says, "I know, I've been there." Normally that would annoy me, but with Jack, nothing's condescending; just true…and honest…and caring. He continues, "We can't control the situation, Renee, only how we respond to it. Sometimes we're blamed for the choices we make in the situation when there is no choice."

"There's always a choice," I say. That's what free will is all about – the ability to choose.

Jack smiles sadly. "Not always. Not for us."

And even though every logical aspect of my brain argues otherwise, I know what he's saying.

"Oedipus had a choice, Renee. You didn't," Jack says with an air of closure.

I nod, and interlace my fingers with his. "I think you're right, Jack."

* * *

A couple hours later, Jack and I are halfway through an incredibly boring movie before he takes off the headphones and says, "There's one thing I can't figure out."

I slide mine off, too. "What's that?"

"I understand _Tom Sawyer_, and I understand _Oedipus_ and _Call of the Wild_."

"But?"

"I can't for the life of me get the connection between you and _The Jungle Books_."

I can't help it; I giggle. "There is no special connection. _The Jungle Books_' my guilty pleasure. A kid is raised by talking animals – it's about as unrealistic and frivolous as you can get without getting into total fantasy."

"Yeah?" Jack's grinning along with me now.

"Yeah. And it's not just Mowgli's story, either – which, by the way, Disney completely bastardized. There's The White Seal, Rikki Tiki Tavi, The Red Dog…"

Jack tilts his head at me. "You really like that book, don't you?" he says wistfully.

I blink, just realizing that I'm really excited. Geez, how is it possible to get excited over a book and not even realize it? I blush. Well, it's been a long time since I could just talk about something I enjoy. "Yeah, I do," I say.

Jack "hmmphs" through his nose in that "yeah, okay" sort of way, and leans over to kiss my cheek. Words come unbidden to the forefront of my mind. I want to say, "You know what else I really like? You," and kiss him back.

But the flight attendant's starting to make some sort of a mid-flight announcement, and that line was way too cheesy anyway. So I let him kiss my cheek, and I squeeze his hand in return, promising myself that eventually, we'll hit a point where I won't have to edit out so much of my affection.


	3. Chapter 3

_Writer's Note: 9 out of the 10 voices in my head asked unanimously, "What homework?" and so I decided I had to write chapter 3. Enjoy. :) Thank you all again for your continued reviews, it's nice to know this story is liked._

* * *

"Can I get you anything?" the flight attendant asks. She's short and blond, but not in that stereotypical perky way.

"I'm fine, thanks," I say. I glance over to where Jack is dozing lightly beside me.

"You know what?" she whispers, "If he wakes up and wants something, just page me by pressing the circular red button on the remote."

"Thanks."

She moves on to the next row of passengers, and I look back over to Jack. His forehead is smooth and seemingly worry-free, but his hand, still holding mine, is terse. It's hard to tell if he's awake or if he really is sleeping, and merely sleeping restlessly. I hope it's the former; he deserves all the rest he can get, and restless sleeping does worse for you than staying awake. Sleep is like a drug – you want it, you need it, and when you taste only a little bit of it, it leaves you dying for more.

His head starts to shake slightly, his eyes rolling under their lids frantically. A nightmare? I look around us; the plane is packed. If the nightmare runs its course and he wakes up yelling or screaming – something I'm not unaccustomed to doing, myself, so I know he's done it on more than one occasion – he'll be embarrassed. Not only that, but it'll raise unnecessary questions from prying passengers, and maybe it's selfish, but I don't want anyone butting into our business. (…When did Jack's nightmares become my business?)

A coarse moan escapes Jack's lips, and I know that although those are all good reasons to wake him up now, the only one that really counts is that he doesn't deserve the nightmares. So I squeeze the hand I'm holding and shake it. He stills, and my eyes fly shut. I figure if he thinks I'm asleep, he won't be embarrassed.

His breathing changes and I hear him shifting in his seat. Then I feel his breath warm over my skin as he leans over. "Thanks," he says in a hushed tone. He leans back, and I open my eyes. He's smiling at me, but his eyes have a haunted look to them…probably the aftermath of whatever nightmare he was starting to have.

I should have known he'd realize I was awake. It's almost scary how well he knows me. Not things like my favorite books or who my family is or what jobs I've held or even my favorite color, but _me_, the person inside.

It's a frightening sort of wonderful.

I smile back at him and squeeze his hand again. He squeezes back, the unhappiness fading from his eyes.

Maybe later I'll ask what his nightmare was about. Later…when the moment isn't so sweet.

* * *

Baggage claim takes forever, but there's no one I'd rather wait with than Jack. After all we've been through together, you'd think it'd be strange just standing around talking about trivial things, but it's not. Well, maybe it was at first, but not for long. Books, movies, music… half an hour waiting and we're engrossed in a conversation about Queen.

It's amazing when you think about it. Most people do this "getting to know you" stage before they muck around in the deeper, darker aspects of each other. Jack and I did it backwards – we knew all the worst about each other first, and still just sort of fell into each other anyway. It feels like we've earned this, this trivial "getting to know you" stuff.

"Tell me, how is _Bohemian Rhapsody_ the best Queen song?" I say with a snort.

"It just is!"

"Now that's a wimpy argument. _Don't Stop Me Now_ is definitely the best."

We debate it until Jack finally spots his suitcase. Considering the confrontations we've had before – one of them including me pointing a gun at him – it feels good to argue about music.

Jack's walking back to me, suitcase in hand, when his cell rings. He answers, "Bauer." Then his gaze loses focus, and he smiles gently. "Hey, sweetheart." His daughter, obviously. "Yeah, we just landed about forty minutes ago. …Yeah, it was fine. …Hold on." He covers the mouthpiece. "How do you feel about dinner with Kim, Teri and Steven tonight?" he asks me.

"Sure," I say.

"Sounds good, Kim. …Yes, I remember. We'll meet you guys there. …Okay. …Love you too." He hangs up and pockets his phone. Luggage in tow, we head toward the exit. "You ready?" he says to me, his hand hovering at the small of my back.

Ready for a life with Jack, in California, with his daughter's family tacked on the side?

"Yeah."

Not a chance.

* * *

Now that we're here, I'm terrified. Guns, knives, rape – I've faced it all without even blinking. (I'm not saying the repercussions of my job haven't scarred me, but for the most part, in the heat of the moment I don't freak out. …With the obvious exception…) But Jack's family? They terrify me.

Will Kim approve? How much does she remember about me? Does she know anything about the things I've done to myself? To others? To _Jack_? I mean, I could have _killed_ him when he pulled me off Vladimir. The judgment and acceptance of her husband and child are important, too, but Kim is his daughter. I've read his file. I know the things he's done to protect her. He'd move heaven and earth to keep her safe. I guess my biggest worry is…if she doesn't like me, will he leave me to appease her?

Although every instinct I have says he won't, the truth is, you never know. You never know what anybody would do in that situation, let alone Jack.

I don't even notice that the cab's stopped until Jack says, "You've been quiet. Is something wrong?"

I startle, then quickly open the cab door. "No, everything's fine," I say, holding the door open for him. "I was just thinking."

He slides out behind me and puts his hand on mine over the cab door. "About what?"

He's giving me an expression that says "stop trying to bullshit me" and I sigh. He steps out of the way and we close the cab door together. His hand lingers on mine in the air. "I'm just nervous," I say. I shoulder my duffel with the other hand and stand there, one hand in his, on a busy street in front of a modest hotel.

"About what?" he asks. We start walking toward the hotel.

It's going to sound so stupid… "About meeting with Kim…" I mumble.

Jack stops us. "About meeting with Kim?" He grins. "Renee, Kim loves you. All she talked about in the days following my first treatment was 'Renee Walker saved me' and 'Renee Walker saved you.' And she was furious when she found out that they'd dismissed you."

"Did…did she know why they…?"

Jack nods. "Yes. Hey, she's got me for a father – nothing surprises her anymore." He pulls me close and hugs me. I feel warm and protected in his arms… "It's going to be fine."

"Okay." I bury my face in his shoulder, and he holds me for a moment longer.

* * *

Our room is a single with a queen bed, on the sixth floor, overlooking the city. I set my duffle bag on the floor by the desk and look out the window for a moment. Then I turn, rubbing my arms, to face him. "You didn't have to do this, Jack. Book a hotel room, I mean."

Kim had offered to let us stay with her until we could find an apartment, but I didn't want to impose. Even after assurances that I wouldn't be imposing, I still felt strange.

"I didn't do it just for you," Jack says. He puts his key-card on the desk near the phone. "I did it because you felt uncomfortable and because, well, I need my own space, too. We as a couple need our own space. And it's very hard to get privacy in a house with a four-year-old."

He cups my face and I smile. He kisses me deeply, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me flush against his body. My hands roam under his shirt and up his back; it's riddled with scars that tell of a troubled, painful history, but they don't extinguish my desire. I pull back and gasp, "Curtains. Jack…_oh_…curtains!"

He chuckles and reaches behind me to close the dark maroon cloth over the satin sheers, and then turns me and, kissing me all the while, guides me to the bed.

We do have several hours before dinner, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack kisses my shoulder. The weight of his body feels great over mine. "Are you happy, Renee?"

"Show me a woman who wouldn't be after that, and I'll show you a cold fish." He laughs into my shoulder. I love making him laugh. He rolls off of me and I follow him, laying my head against his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm happy, Jack," I say. Pause. "And you?"

He nuzzles the top of my head with his nose. "Very happy," he says.

I look behind me to the clock on the nightstand. 4:53 p.m. We have more than two hours before we're supposed to meet Kim. I lay my head back against his shoulder, decidedly nervous again.

Jack wriggles an arm from under me, and then puts it around my shoulder, stroking my hair. He doesn't say anything at all. He just holds me, and this is the most cherished I've ever felt in my life.

Ten minutes later, I press a kiss to his neck and sit up. His hand travels down my back and he watches me. "I just want to grab a shower before we meet Kim," I say.

He gives me a half-smile. "Okay. Do you want some company?"

Although my unreasonable side rears its ugly head and screams "no!" I smile back and say, "Sure. You can keep me from wallowing in nervousness."

He sits up and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. "You don't have to be nervous."

"I know. I'm trying not to be." I must be a negative field to his positive, because I can't seem to help leaning into him again. I kiss him, and his arms come up around me.

"Maybe I should relax you…"

"Mmm…maybe you should."

* * *

We wash in the shower, and then make love, and then end up having to soap up ourselves all over again.

"The water's gone cold," Jack says. He's got his back to the showerhead, shielding me from the water.

My lips turn up in a smile. "Maybe that's a good thing," I say. I rub my hands over the goose-bumped skin of his chest. "We could easily be late for dinner if it didn't."

"I suppose you're right." He grins back at me and reaches behind himself for the knob.

I pull back the curtain and we step out. The hotel's towels are thin and cheap, like those of most hotels. We've only got one each and we thoroughly soak them – and I haven't even touched my hair. I frown. I wish I had a hair dryer. I can't remember the last time I used one.

"Where are we meeting them?" I ask as Jack leaves the bathroom to get dressed.

"A place called La Casita Mexicana. It's about half an hour outside L.A."

"Great," I say. I really do love Mexican. "Then we should leave around 6:30?"

"Yeah."

I smile and then notice a hairdryer hanging in a charger on the wall. Perfect. I tie the towel around me and get to work.

* * *

La Casita Mexicana is a small building in an old part of town, orange-painted and with a large sign in bold letters. We walk in. Yellow lamps give the place a soft, warm glow. Pictures of southwestern scenes line the walls in perfect integers. The man at the podium gives us a beaming smile. Ever since I was a little girl, maitre d's always made me suspicious. They're always giving you a beaming smile or looking somberly and snobbishly at you – they're great actors; they make you want to know what's beneath that beaming façade. I've seen maitre d's that I considered offering F.B.I. positions to, based on their acting skills alone.

Kim and her family aren't here yet, so the man seats us at an empty booth. I slide in first and Jack sits next to me. After a minute, Jack asks, "Still nervous?"

I smile, and the smile wavers. "A little." My hands are on my lap. He covers them with one of his. I can't get over how supportive he's being…

"Hey guys!"

Kim, Steven, and little Teri walk over to us, and Jack stands to hug his daughter. It takes me half a second to follow.

"Hey sweetheart," Jack says.

"Dad. Mmm. I missed you."

"Missed you too, sweetheart."

Kim opens her eyes and sees me, and wriggles out of her father's grasp. "A-…Renee, it's good to see you again." She winces as stumbles over my name a little, and I remember that the last time she saw me, it was Agent Walker. But she's smiling and gives me an apologetic grimace before shaking my hand.

"It's good to see you, too, Kim."

"Grandpa Jack! Grandpa Jack!" Jack's granddaughter launches herself into his arms. He picks her up and swings her around.

"Teri! Teri!" he says, laughing. "How's my favorite granddaughter?"

"Look, I made a picture!" Teri waves a scribbled child's drawing up for Jack to see. He praises it like it's the Mona Lisa, and the little girl's smile couldn't be broader.

"Hi, I'm Steven," Kim's husband says. He shakes my hand, too.

"Renee Walker," I say.

"Could we get a child's seat? Thanks. So, Renee, this is your first time in California?" Kim says to me as the waiter goes to find a booster seat for little Teri.

"Yes."

"How do you like it so far?" Steven asks.

"I like it. Ah, well, I mean, I haven't seen much of it yet, but I like what I've seen." Which includes the airport, random buildings through the window of a taxi, the hotel, and Jack. Oh _shit_, I'm sleeping with her father. My cheeks start to burn. I don't know which irritates me more – the fact that I'm embarrassed or the fact they can tell I'm embarrassed.

But Kim is neither psychic nor a mind-reader, because she nods and is probably attributing the blushing to my nervous stumbling. She takes this moment to say to Teri, "Sweetie? I want you to meet someone." Jack turns sideways so that Teri can see me. "This is Renee," Kim continues, rubbing Teri's back. "She's a friend from your grandpa's work."

Teri gives me the sweetest little smile, and I feel my embarrassment waning. "Hi," the little girl says shyly, with a wave of her little hand.

That little girl's smile pierces me somewhere deep, and I know in an instant I'd die for this child, regardless of who her grandfather is. "Hi, Teri," I say. I'm used to having to force a smile to stay on, to show my emotions, but this smile has taken my lips hostage, and I'm fairly certain that I'm beaming like an idiot.

The waiter comes back with the booster seat, and we all slide back into the booth. I force my grin to settle down into a pleasant expression. Teri begs to sit next to "Grandpa Jack" and so Jack puts the booster seat between us, and Kim and her husband sit on the other side of the table.

We order our food, and the conversation stays thankfully light. I don't know if Jack phoned Kim to discuss safe topics, but we've successfully avoided conversations about my work, family, and questionable actions.

About halfway through dinner Teri tugs on my sleeve. I bend over and she whispers, "I gots to use the bathroom."

Oh! "Oh, okay." I look up and over her. "Jack?" I nod, and he leans over. I whisper in his ear, "Teri needs the bathroom."

"Okay," he says. His eyes hold mine for a heartbeat, and then he looks over to Kim as he stands. Teri scrambles out of the booster seat and he says simply, "Bathroom."

But Kim's staring between the two of us. She blinks, and seems to snap out of a trance. "Oh! Right." She, too, stands up, takes her daughter by the hand, and walks her to the restroom.

Jack sits back down, and Steven strikes up a conversation about sports. All I can think about, though, is…shit. Kim knows.

* * *

Writer's Note: :) Hee-hee-hee.


	5. Chapter 5

Kim pulls Jack aside as we leave the restaurant. I move to the curb to wave down a taxi, but I'm not really paying much attention to doing that. I glance behind me, to where Kim and Jack are standing. They're near the door, talking in hushed tones. Both have intense expressions, and it worries me.

"Renee?"

Steven and Teri walked up beside me without me realizing it. "Oh, hey there," I say.

"Teri would like to ask you something," Steven says. He looks down at his daughter and smiles at her. "Go ahead, Teri."

I kneel down, my mind racing. Little kids ask questions like, "What's your favorite color?" and "Why is the sky blue?" – right? Those shouldn't be too hard to answer. So I aim my best smile at Teri and say, "What's up?"

She tucks her fist shyly to the corner of her mouth. "Mommy said you work with Grandpa."

Oh god… "Yes, that's right."

"Then you catch bad guys too, right?"

Oh no… I used to. But that was before I threatened a baby and tortured a man… I settle for a, "Yup."

"Then can you catch the boogie man for me?"

Oh…huh? "The boogie man?" I say.

"Yeah! The boogie man's a bad guy and Ricky said he's gonna get me tonight!" The little girl's chin wobbles as tears suddenly threaten to spring from her eyes.

The boogie man. This little girl wants me to catch the boogie man for her. I want to laugh and jump for joy, but that would only confuse her. Then I remember what my mother used to say about the boogie man to me, and I say, "The boogie man's not going to hurt you, sweetie."

"Yes he is! And I know he's real! I saw him!" She stomps her foot and looks up at Steven accusingly. He shrugs his shoulders at me, looking like one of the millions of parents who've tried to tell their kids the boogie man doesn't exist, to no avail.

"Teri?" I say softly. She looks back at me. "You're right. The boogie man's real, but he's not going to hurt you." She gives me this skeptical look that has Jack written all over it. "Listen, the boogie man's just a very lonely monster. He goes to all the kids' houses but no one will play with him because he looks so scary. He doesn't want to hurt you, Teri. He just wants someone to play with." _Please_ let this work on Teri as well as it worked on me when I was her age…

"You promise?" Teri says. She still doesn't look sure, but I think she's buying it.

I make a cross over my left collarbone. "Cross my heart and hope to die," I say.

She thinks about it for a moment, then her face brightens. "Okay," she says.

"Are we about ready?" Kim asks. She and Jack are walking up to us.

"Yep," Steven says.

"Come on cutie!" Kim says, hoisting Teri up into her arms. "Dinner was great," she says to Jack and I. "Thanks for coming."

"Wouldn't have missed it," Jack says. I nod in agreement.

Kim and Jack hug around Teri, and Jack ruffles the girl's head fondly, kissing it before they pile into the cab Steven called for them. Jack and I get into our own cab. We buckle in, and Jack gives the driver directions. Then, a minute later, he looks over to me and asks, "What were you and Teri talking about?"

I want to say, "Yeah? Well, what were you and Kim talking about?" but…whiny defensiveness is just petty. And the memory of little Teri asking me to stop her boogie man… I smile. I feel warm inside, in a childlike, wondrous way. I embrace that feeling, and say instead, "She wanted me to catch her boogie man."

* * *

Jack closes the door to the hotel room behind us. I shrug off my sweater and start to hang it off the chair. I feel Jack's arms snake around me, and smile as he kisses my neck. "So, was that so bad?" he asks teasingly.

"No," I concede. "Kim's even nicer than I remember, Steven was polite, and Teri was about the most adorable thing I've seen since fluffy kittens." He chuckles into my neck. His amused eyes sparkled at me in the mirror that hangs over the desk.

"She really asked you to catch her boogie man?" Jack asks, grinning that lopsided grin of his.

"Yeah."

Jack lets go and rubs my shoulders. "You see?" he says. "They loved you." He kisses the back of my head and then goes to get something out of his suitcase.

I put my hands on my sweater and dig my fingers into it. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"What were you and Kim talking about, while I was talking to Teri and Steven?" I turn sideways to look at him, my hands still on my sweater over the chair.

Jack stops and looks up at me, closes his suitcase, and rises. "We were talking about, well, you and me."

"I was hoping you weren't going to say that," I whisper. I take a deep breath, and look back at him. "What did she say?"

"She just wanted to know if it's serious," Jack says. "I told her before we left that you'd be with me, but I don't think she really understood how this is."

"And how is it, Jack? Is this serious?"

He walks over to me slowly, until we're barely half a foot apart. He levels a somber look at me. "I'm serious," he says.

I blink, and smile. "I'm serious, too," I say.

He kisses me, not passionately and lustily, but long and sweetly, wrapping me tenderly in his arms. This is not a kiss meant to seduce. It's a kiss meant to convey…to convey how much he cares about me. Which is a lot.

I let go of the chair, and wrap my arms around him in return.

* * *

I wake up to the smell of cheap hotel coffee. I blink, looking around, and find Jack sitting on the bed with a mug of coffee in his hand, just watching me. "Morning," I grumble, yawning.

"Good morning," he replies. "Here you go." He hands me a mug of coffee as I sit up.

I sip my coffee, and start to really wake up. "This is really bad coffee," I say, mumbling around the side of the mug. He reaches over to take it from me. I swat his hands away. He gives me a pointed grin in return and I say, "Okay. Point taken." I'm neither a morning bird nor a night owl. It doesn't matter when I'm up, but it's crucial that when I do get up, I get a cup of coffee right away. Any kind of coffee – even bad coffee.

Jack's cell rings on the dresser. "Bauer," he answers. He pauses. "Why? …Okay, okay." He holds the cell out to me. "Kim wants to talk to you?"

What? What for? "What? What for?" I ask, mimicking my thoughts and my own worst fears. Oh god. Kim hates me. She doesn't want me involved with her father. That's why she's calling.

"I don't know," Jack says.

I take the phone cautiously and say, "Yeah, Kim?"

"_Oh, good, Renee, you are there! Renee, all Teri's talked about all morning is how she made friends with the boogie man and how he's really nice. I can't thank you enough for talking to her last night. You have no idea how long we're been trying to convince her there's nothing to be scared of._" She whispers the last portion, probably in part because of the squealing in the background.

"No problem," I say.

Kim's voice sounds distant as she talks to someone in the background, and then she says, "_Well, I've got to run to work, but thanks again, Renee. You're a lifesaver_."

"No problem," I repeat, laughing under my breath.

"_See you later_."

"Okay. Bye." I hang up the phone and smile over it for a moment longer.

"What did Kim want?" Jack asks.

I hand him the phone. "To thank me for telling Teri that the boogie man's a good guy."

"Really? That worked?"

"It worked on me," I say, sipping my coffee.

Jack laughs and kisses my cheek. "I've never met anyone like you, Renee."

"Likewise," I say softly. I lean into his sideways embrace, and we spend our Saturday morning just sitting together, drinking coffee.

* * *

Jack wanted to know what I want to do today. I said, "Surprise me."

So here we are, strolling down Cabrillo Beach. It's honestly just the most gorgeous place I've ever seen. I've seen the ocean before, but not like this.

We walk down the stone slabs of the Cabrillo Beach dock. It's mid-afternoon and the dock is empty. I can hear the laughter of some college kids playing on the beach behind us… I remember what it was like to be that young. That naïve, actually.

We sit down at the end of the dock and dangle our feet over, our socks and shoes behind us. The water's cold and the air is hot, with a strange, lukewarm wind blowing. "Is this your favorite place in L.A.?" I ask.

"It's my favorite beach, but not my favorite place."

"It's beautiful. I like it," I say. I lean back on my hands and close my eyes, letting the sun have at me. A minute passes, and I open my eyes, tilt my head to look at him. I give in and ask, "What is your favorite place?"

Jack smiles, "hmmph"s through his nose. "I don't have a favorite place," he says, leaning back on one hand to mimic me. "Just…favorite people."

"And, am I one of those people?" I ask.

He brushes my hair out of my face and cups my cheek. "You are definitely one of my favorite people," he says slowly, deliberately.

I smile against his hand, nuzzle into it slightly, and raise my own hand to cover it. There are so many things I could say. "That means a lot to me," I say finally, truthfully.

We sit together on the dock, watching the waves tango and the boats bob on them, and listening to the birds squawk. We hold hands above deck and play footsie below it, and everything feels perfect…so peaceful.

And I think we both deserve a little peace.

* * *

Writer's Note: The longest chapter yet! Hope you guys liked it. :) I want to thank you all again for writing such glowing reviews. I can take constructive criticism as well as praise but it's really nice knowing you guys like this, so thank you for taking the time to type a few (or several) (or many x3) words. See you all again next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

It's my third day in Los Angeles (counting the plane) and Jack and I are scanning the classifieds for apartments. We've got about three different newspapers here, and the hotel floor and bed are littered with black-and-white pages. It took some hefty discussion to agree on what we were even looking for – nothing grand. I felt really awkward during the discussion, though – after living in a perpetual state of depression and self-loathing, my idea of "grand" seems to be a little different from Jack's. Meaning I had come to equate "grand" with "livable," and it showed.

"Here's a good place in West Lake," Jack says, circling it.

I take a casual glance at it and give a non-committing nod. I only looked at the price: $2,300 per month. I'm calculating figures in my mind, and wincing internally about every five seconds. Nothing in L.A. is going to be cheap – at least nothing livable, anyway. (The real definition of livable.) And I've got about five hundred dollars to my name, only a fifth of which is actually on me. The rest is scattered between a bank account and various hideouts all over the country, from my old FBI days.

It occurs to me that I really should be looking for a job instead.

I toss the section I'm looking at onto the toss pile, and the pile slides forward into the other piles. I sigh. Great. My mess has messes. I reach over to straighten out the piles when I notice a page poking out from under the pile. I slide it out and look over it. Jobs. I glance quickly at Jack. He's not looking. I pull the job classifieds completely out from under the pile and pull it back beside me, so that my body's hiding it.

My old Catholic grandmother on my father's side used to say, "Keeping secrets from your husband is the first step to divorce and ungodliness," and I suppose that's as true for boyfriends as it is for husbands. I just…I'm trying to avoid the topic of money. It's embarrassing. I'm not aware of Jack's specific financial status but I know he's better off than I am. I just…I don't want to be dependent on him. Or anyone.

Daddy always said my pride would kill me one day…

"If we get a two-bedroom, we can use the second room as an office," Jack says.

"Sure." Two bedrooms usually have two baths, and are usually a thousand dollars more than singles, but an office would be nice. Someplace for bookshelves and a desk, a computer.

Jack ruffles through his pages, then sighs heavily. He shakes his head. "You know what? Let's take a break and go for lunch."

"Okay," I readily agree.

* * *

We go to McDonald's for lunch – in part for the proximity, and partly because neither one of us had the patience to find something better.

The kids are playing in the McDonald's indoor playground, laughing and having fun under the watchful, hawk-like eyes of their parents. I'm reminded of little Teri and her wobbly chin and bright blue eyes – eyes that so remind me of Jack.

"You like kids?" Jack asks the question, and he's smiling.

The question sounds almost absurd coming from Jack, who knows me so well. Do I like kids? I love them. It's hard to imagine that at one point, I wanted a large family. But that was back in the days when, at fourteen years old, all I had was my mother and lots of miscarried brothers and sisters. For the past several years, it's been me and no one, except a long string of guys that didn't work out and a boss that I cared about more than I should've, but not enough to call it love.

"Yeah, I like kids."

A moment passes, then Jack asks, "Do you want kids?"

Two things simultaneously occur to me: that we've had unprotected sex at least half a dozen times, and that Jack might not want more kids. I mean, he's a grandfather for god's sake. He doesn't look it and he's in great shape, but… Besides, it would be more than a little weird that his grandchild would be older than his second child.

Ever since I touched that child…on the day I met Jack… I haven't let myself even dream of it. "Yeah, I want kids…" I admit. Jack looks down. I reach over and grab his hand across the table. "But," I say firmly, "I don't need them."

"You'd make a great mother, Renee," Jack says. He intertwines his fingers with mine. "Really."

I've known Jack to tell lies in order to serve a greater purpose, but I've never known him to tell a lie because he thought it was what you wanted to hear, or because he thought you couldn't handle the truth. "Thanks, Jack." I look down, though, uncertain. He might not lie to me, but he might not be right, either.

"Hey," he says. "I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong."

I look back up at him, a little irritated. "What am I thinking, Jack?"

"You're thinking that you don't deserve kids, because you pretended to be willing to harm a terrorist's child to get him to talk. But Renee, there's a big difference between trying to save your country and having a kid. You wouldn't be able to hurt your own child."

My mind splits off from the conversation the minute he says "pretended to be willing," but I mutter a few words to continue the conversation anyway: "How do you know?"

Jack gives me an intense stare. "Because I've seen how fiercely you protect the people you care about."

I nod, but it doesn't really register. I'm thinking about his choice of words, earlier: "pretended to be willing." Pretended. I want to laugh and scream and cry. Pretended.

I wasn't pretending. I'd decided the minute I pulled open my jacket and walked through the door that I would hurt the child, and his mother, too, if it meant breaking that terrorist. I had unwittingly slipped into Renee Zadan's mask. I became her again. And when I snapped out of it, when I picked up that child and returned him safely to his mother, I was so stunned that I couldn't even tell you my name if you demanded it of me. I couldn't believe what I'd become, without the slightest hint of provocation.

And then she said those fateful words to me: "You're a monster."

And I agreed with her.

* * *

I lie awake with Jack sleeping silently next to me. We'd gone back to the hotel and I followed his lead on sorting through possible apartments, too mind-sore and soul-pained to really put my best effort into it. I suppose my little sliver of silver lining is that even though I was consumed by thoughts of my monstrous, baby-harming capability, I was too numb to be embarrassed by finances. I think Jack knew something was wrong, but didn't want to push it.

I roll over and press my face into his shoulder, fighting the sudden rush of tears that threaten to escape. I can't believe the things I've done. I know Jack would say he's done worse, and he has – I've read his file, I know his rep. But somehow, that doesn't seem to matter.

Because the things he did panned out. And yeah, maybe I threatened that baby and got results, but I nearly killed Alan Wilson, and that went nowhere.

I'm a monster.

Jack snorts and rolls over in his sleep. Right now, I wouldn't blame anyone for getting out of the bed and leaving the room, let alone rolling over to get away from me. But he doesn't. He curls inward and, deep in sleep, he wraps an arm around me.

And I remember what he said during lunch. _"I've seen how fiercely you protect the people you care about."_

I blink, and let my brain wrap itself around that thought. I protect people, too. It's not my job anymore, but that doesn't mean anything. Jack could tell you that – that taking an agent out of the job does not take the job out of the agent. I'm not Agent Renee Walker anymore, but her heart and her ferocity are still in me. I just got lost. That's all.

And Jack can help me find my way. More than that, he wants to. And not just because he has some sort of hero crisis. I can tell when people just want to help me for the benefit of their own ego. Jack's not one of them. He really, genuinely cares about me.

And I'm pretty sure I love him, so the feeling's more than mutual.

I scoot closer to him and bury my face in his sheet-wrapped chest. I close my eyes. Sleep. That's all I need. Tomorrow will be a new day, and Jack and I can tackle it together.

* * *

Writer's Note: Renee Walker's been through a lot and she's done a lot, too, so I didn't think it would be realistic to write her without a little bit of angst. Like Jack said on the show, she's in a dark place, but he wants to be there to help her out. :) (I'm continuing to happily ignore the fact that they killed her.)


	7. Chapter 7

Writer's Note: The first section of this chapter is themed around Renee's menstrual cycle. If you find such things disturbing or gross to read, I suggest you skip to the second section of the chapter. I promise that you will lose nothing of the story by skipping it; all relevant plot information will be in the rest of the chapter.

* * *

I wake up to a bittersweet morning, for as I come into awareness, I realize two things. The first is that there's a sharp pain in my groin, and the second is that Jack is sweeping kisses all over my face. I quickly count the days since my last period, and yup, I'm due. I feel wet and bloody, and I just hope to god I haven't gotten blood on the sheets. Having an iron fist squeeze your muscles is bad enough without that.

"Good morning," Jack says in a bright voice. His eyes sparkle, and I know he wants to make love with me. My mind has no problem with that idea, but my body is protesting the thought rather fiercely, as it will for the next three days.

"Morning," I say. I try to hide the pain from my tone.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Not likely. I don't think Jack's ever thought, "I need a pad and two large Advils," a day in his life. "I don't think so, Jack."

"Oh." He quickly hides his surprised look, and leans back. "Okay. Coffee?"

"No!"I say adamantly. Thus begins my three-day hell of no coffee. I need the stuff like I need air first thing in the morning, but caffeinated cramps are cramps on crack. No coffee is just the lesser of two extremely crappy evils.

"No coffee?" Jack's truly bewildered now. I sit up gingerly as he continues, "Renee, are you okay?"

"It's nothing I'm not used to by now," I say. He still looks at me worriedly, and the corner of my mouth turns up in a half-smile. "Really, I'm fine." Fine by usual menstrual-cramps standards.

Understanding flashes across his face. He nods. I get up and glance down at the bed. To my relief, it's blood-free. I sigh and fish a pad out of my duffel bag before disappearing into the bathroom.

* * *

As I wash my hands, I look at myself in the mirror. This is unusual for me… I don't really like looking at myself, beyond making sure I'm presentable. But this time, I take a moment to really study myself. I look like shit, quite honestly – pale, tense face and a glued-on grimace.

But that can be fixed. I brush my teeth and wash my face with the hotel washcloth dipped in cool water, and I feel relatively human again – even without my coffee. I just need some Advil, now… Crap. But I don't have any. I was out last month and forgot to pick up more.

Padding barefoot out of the bathroom, I smile abashedly at Jack. "Do you have any Advil?" I ask.

He's lying on the bed, reading the newspaper. "No, but I have some Tylenol." He sets the paper aside and gets off the bed to kneel beside his suitcase.

My cramps laugh at Tylenol. Crap…oh well. I'll have to make do.

Jack finds his bottle of Tylenol and starts to shake out pills. "Better give me three," I say.

He pauses and raises an eyebrow. I know the directions on standard over-the-counter pain medication say two for adults, but hell, I'm a grown woman. I can't help but feel exasperated. "_Jack_," I say on a sharp exhale.

He blinks at me, then looks down at his hand. "Yeah, okay," he says calmly, shaking out a third.

He drops the pills into my hand. "Thank you." I go back into the bathroom and pour water into one of those cheap plastic cups.

I take one of the pills and pop it into my mouth. Sip. Swallow. I still remember stuff from my high school anatomy class, and from my first aid courses. I know Tylenol's bad on the liver. I know it can kill you if you overdose. Pop. Sip. Swallow. I also know what I can and can't get away with in my own body. Pop. Sip. Swallow. …Doesn't he trust me?

When I go to leave the bathroom, Jack's standing outside the doorway. "Look, I didn't mean to seem condescending," he says.

"That's okay."

"I'm just…going to take a shower," he says, gesturing behind me.

I sidestep so he can walk past me. "I'm sorry, Jack," I say just as he's about to close the door.

He frowns. "For what?"

"For…well, this morning." I smile grimly.

"I'm not following you."

"I know why you need a shower, Jack. A cold one, right?"

Jack walks up to me and grabs my right shoulder – gently, but firmly. "Renee, I don't want you to apologize for not having sex with me, _ever_," he says. There's a hint of anger in his voice, but mostly, he just sounds hurt. "This is my problem. It's not your fault. Okay?"

"I'm not sorry just for you," I say. "You've got to know that…I _would_ want to." I slide my right hand up to rub his arm, giving him a half-smile. "I…" The words "I love you" threatened to spill from my lips, and I barely manage to divert them. "I find you more attractive than I think you know."

He stares at me a minute longer before smiling back. "Thanks," he breathes. He releases my shoulder and rubs it, and places a careful kiss to my forehead. "I'm going to grab that shower now."

"Yeah."

Jack disappears into the bathroom and I sink onto the bed with an internal moan, which isn't from the cramps alone. Why do I keep jeopardizing myself like that? I can't say "I love you" after only a couple of weeks. I mean, do I even know if it's true? Do I love him?

Damn I hurt. My mental crisis adds insult to my nature-approved injury. The cramps are snowballing and I've got half an hour at least until the Tylenol kicks in. I scoot up to the pillows and curl up, tucking my hand under my clothes to rest against my lower abdomen. I don't have a heating pad, but it'll help.

I suppose the silver lining in this case is that I don't have to worry about that unprotected sex we had. I'm not pregnant – that much is painfully obvious.

I whimper and squeeze my eyes against the pain. Half an hour. Maybe a little longer, maybe a little shorter. Half an hour. I can do it. I do it every month. And I can beat back those three words for as long as it takes for me to make sure it's real…

* * *

Jack emerges from the bathroom just ten minutes later in a pair of sweats, the towel around his shoulders. By this time, pain has flared all over my lower body – back, groin, thighs – hot and heavy.

"Tylenol hasn't kicked in?" Jack says.

"Not yet."

He drapes the towel over the back of the chair and comes over to the bed. He pushes my hair back and leans over to drop a kiss on my cheek. "Roll over," he whispers.

"Hmm?"

"Roll over."

I'm not sure what he has planned, but he asks in such a soothing way that I feel inclined to do as he asks. I start rolling, toward the center, and Jack stops me when I'm belly-down. He straddles me, then. "Jack?"

"Sssh." And then his hands are on me, rubbing and caressing and pressing my back, in slow circles. He starts at the bottom, at the pain site, and works up and down my back. He works my back for a good five minutes before I began to sink into the mattress. The Tylenol and Jack's hands work magic, the Tylenol soothing my belly and Jack soothing my back. A moan escapes my lips.

"Is that better?" he asks.

"Mmm-hmm," I say. My lips curl into a smile. "You're amazing."

He presses a kiss to my upturned cheek. "What do you want to do today?"

"What time is it?"

"Just after nine."

"Hmm. Tell me, what is there to do at nine in the morning in Los Angeles?"

Jack laughs. "The better question would be, what isn't there to do?"

* * *

We end up going to the movies. It never fails to amaze me how much the movie theaters have changed since I was younger. The prices are shocking, the sizes are enormous and you can buy about any type of food except for fine lobster.

I still feel awkward about money right now, so Jack and I reach a compromise: I bought tickets and he's buying food. Two small sodas and one bucket of popcorn later, we find seats in theatre 4.

The pickings were slim for movies. I don't like chick flicks and neither one of us wanted to see an action film – c'mon, we get enough of that in real life – so we decided on an animated kid's movie, _How to Train Your Dragon_.

"I can't remember the last time I went to see a kiddie movie," I say as the Dreamworks "moon-boy" casts his fishing line on the big screen.

"I took Teri to see _Alice in Wonderland_ a few weeks ago," Jack says. "That new one." He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

"What was wrong with the old one?" I ask. I remember seeing advertisements for the new one, never really feeling the inclination to go see it. I'd quite liked _Alice in Wonderland_ as a little kid, and I'm thoroughly convinced that good movies don't need to be remade.

"Nothing," Jack says.

We don't talk throughout the film – although I do "aww" and chuckle at the dragons a lot. They're cuter and a lot cuddlier than the fierce dragons I usually imagine, especially "Toothless." But what strikes closer to heart is one of the supporting themes of the story – that violence is not the only answer. It gives me a measure of…peace…to know that kids aren't just being fed "kill kill kill, sex sex sex" all the time, that sometimes producers make movies with messages like this. When Jack and I walk out into the lobby, I feel very content inside.

"That was a good movie," Jack says simply.

"It was." I look over and smile at him. We hold hands, thumbs rubbing.

"That was _stupid_," says a voice behind us.

"Yeah. 'Oh, you don't have to kill them. Just play nicely and the dragons will leave you alone,'" mocks a second. They move out from behind us and continue laughing and joking. I have a front-row seat to their criticism. And they're just a couple of teenage boys, maybe seventeen or eighteen at most. Anger pricks at me. Damn, it's just a movie, but really… My hand tightens around Jack's, and through the corner of my eye I see him watching me, concerned.

"These movies are teaching kids to be wimps."

"Yeah. The real world is nothing like that."

My temper snaps in two like a fragile twig, and I know it's not about the movie anymore. I let go of Jack's hand and step up to them. "What do you know about the real world?" I ask, my nerves prickled. "What the _hell_ do you know about the real world?"

The teenagers look at me, and then exchange looks. "I bet I know it better than you," the first one says.

I have traveled to four continents and been in dozens of countries. I have seen families devastated by disaster. I have seen terrorists bent upon creating that disaster. I have seen a baby howl for sight of me, and his mother beg me not to hurt him. I have been beaten and raped. I have seen friends die and not been able to do a damn thing to stop it. I have tortured and killed. I have been tortured, if by none other than my own wretched soul. There is only one person who knows the real world better than I do, and that man is standing right behind me.

"You wanna know what I bet?" I say. People are starting to stare, but it doesn't faze me. "I bet you're nothing more than a child in an adolescent's body. You don't know the real world, you just think you do. The real world's not some tough place where you can easily identify who your enemy is or how strong or weak they are. It's not a fucking playground for people to show off their bravado. The real world is a broken and struggling place, where real people live and die for no apparent reason. And it's not the weak that get picked off, it's the weak and the strong and the wise and the fools.

"There are so many shades of gray in the real world that you'll never know for sure who's right and who's wrong. And yeah, sometimes killing is necessary –" My mind flashes to Vladimir, and I continue, "but mercy is necessary, too." I think of Wilson, someone I wanted badly to let Tony kill, but couldn't, because he had information we needed. Information I couldn't get out of him. "So don't stand there and talk about the real world, when you're so far buried in your own little piece of it that you can barely see sunlight.

"And the way I see it," I say more calmly, though no less angrily, "if someone wants to make a movie teaching kids to have a little compassion instead of killing the first supposed 'bad guy' they see, I don't have a problem with that."

The teens stare at me, stunned. Then one of them shakes his head and mutters, "Yeah, whatever, lady," and they move quickly away.

I'm starting to climb down from the height of my proverbial soapbox, my fury declining with me, when I feel Jack take my hand. We walk together onward, and with every step I take, I feel my righteous anger slipping faster into heated mortification. I can't believe the scene I've caused. I've embarrassed the hell out of myself, and Jack, too, I'm sure.

We get out to the parking lot and I stop, tugging on Jack's hand to get him to face me. "I…I'm so sorry," I say. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay," Jack says. I must have looked dismayed at that, because he continues, "Renee, you were right on the mark about everything. And the only reason I wasn't standing right next to you, giving them a piece of _my_ mind, is because you are a force to be reckoned with, and didn't need me to defend you."

His words make me pause as he pulls out his phone to call a cab. Force to be reckoned with. Didn't need him to defend me. Slowly my mortification dies, and my heart grows warm again. Jack really does trust me, and to boot, he doesn't care at all that I've just caused a public scene. He hangs up the phone and pockets it. "How do you always know exactly what to say?" I ask, amazement lacing my words.

Jack gives me a small smile and steps closer, and wraps his arms around my shoulders as he looks into my eyes and says, "I don't. So I just tell the truth and see where it leads me."

For all the deceit Jack employs in the field, in playing terrorists against each other and setting them up for their defeat, he is the most honest man I have ever known.


	8. Chapter 8

We visit the apartment in West Lake first. It's Tuesday, a cloudy, rainy Tuesday – isn't it supposed to be hot in southern Cal? I said as much to Jack on the ride over, and he laughed: "Not necessarily. California doesn't have four seasons – it has two. 'Hot' and 'whatever the hell it wants to be,'" he'd said.

"Here we are, 21C," the manager says. He inserts a key into the lock and opens the door. "Two bedroom, two bath, a nice view of the city. You folks let me know if you have any questions." He hovers by the door, unwilling to leave, but wanting to give us space to look around.

"What do you think?" Jack asks.

I lived in a dump for the past six months. "I haven't seen much, but I like what I see," I say. It's true enough – the place looks decent, with modern fixtures and fresh paint. Except for the lack of furniture, it looks like a hotel suite, and I wonder how long it'll take for, well, _any_ place to feel like home. Wow…I'm going to have a home. I haven't had a place that felt like home in a very long time – even before the events of the day I tortured Alan Wilson.

Jack inspects the rooms carefully, opening and closing doors, checking out the bathrooms and the closets and the kitchen appliances. But not me – I glance at things, but I'm more interested in inspecting him. The way his fingers touch and curl around things. The way his eyebrow dips slightly when he's deep in thought. The way his eyes travel. He's so observant – I wonder if he realizes how intently I'm watching him.

Before I know it, we're standing in the doorway to the master bedroom. "What do you think?" he asks. He wraps his arms around me, hugging me from behind. I put my hands over his and a small smile spreads over my lips. "It's nice."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic."

"You saw how I've been living, Jack. It doesn't really matter where I live as long…as long as I'm with the people I want to be with. It's…it's more than I've had for a long time." …Some things are just easier to say when you're not saying them to someone's face.

I feel him nuzzle my hair before he says, "And you've got me. That's not going to change."

"I'm glad." I pause. "What are we going to do about furniture?"

"I'm having some of my things shipped over once we find someplace we like," Jack says. "Like the dining table, the bed…"

I smirk in spite of myself. "I like that bed."

"Funny. I never really cared for it."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. It never had you in it until last week."

I'm blushing – quite vividly, I'm sure. "Hmm," I say, chuckling. "Is that so?" I turn my head so that we're nose to nose, and my lips brush against his.

"Yeah, it's so." He kisses me.

* * *

Around seven o'clock, I collapse on my half of the hotel bed. "I can't remember the last time I spent the whole day apartment-hunting," I groan.

"You mean you didn't like that?" he says. "I thought women love to shop." I reach above my head for a pillow and throw it at him. "Hey! You missed," he laughs.

"I was throwing blind," I say. One arm covers my eyes and the other's dangling over the side of the bed.

I feel him lean over my body, his elbows on either side of my head. "In that case," he murmurs, "you were pretty close."

"Hmm." I smile and open my eyes to see him smiling back at me.

"Maybe it's a little premature, but I have an idea for what we can do this weekend."

"Yeah?"

"Kim and Stephen's anniversary is on the fifth – Saturday. I was thinking we could take Teri off their hands for the day."

"That sounds good," I say. "What does Kim think?"

"I haven't talked to her about it yet," he says. "I wanted to clear it with you, first. I'll give her a call tomorrow and see what she says."

"Okay." I look into his eyes for a moment longer, then I kiss him, capturing his upper lip between my own. He responds; his hand travels down my side as he traps my lower lip between his. Our mouths are like two pieces of the same, intricate puzzle, and once again I can't believe how quickly and how hard I've fallen for him.

And then, to spite the moment, my stomach growls. We pause, then part and laugh. His head dips into my shoulder, and when he lifts it up again, his eyes are twinkling. "Food?" he asks.

The ridiculousness of my stomach's timing makes me close my eyes, shake my head and chuckle. "Sure," I say.

Jack calls in pizza, to be delivered to our room around twenty minutes from now. While he's giving the Pizza Hut rep our order, I pick up the job classifieds and look down the list. There are jobs I've never wanted to do, jobs I have no hope of doing, and jobs I've never even heard of. I sigh and stretch out on the bed, belly-down.

He ends the call and walks over to me. "What'cha looking at?" he asks, leaning over me. His chin rests on my shoulder, our faces cheek to cheek.

"The job classifieds," I say, even though I'm sure he just read the giant, bold-print title at the top – you'd have to be blind to miss it.

"What kind of job are you looking for?" His tone is neutral – non-judging, non-committal.

"I don't know yet," I say honestly. "I don't want anything to do with fighting criminals, terrorists. If I did, I would've taken back my badge when Hastings offered it to me. I might try to do something in private security again, but it's not like they advertise, 'Wanted: Screwed-Up Ex-Federal Agent' in the paper."

"You're not screwed up, Renee," Jack says softly. "You're just going through a hard time right now." He wraps an arm around my shoulder.

"I guess."

"I know."

I meant it when I said I didn't want to go back to fighting and apprehending criminals. I honestly, truthfully don't want anything to do with the FBI, or CTU, for that matter. But…I don't know how to do anything else.

Jack starts rubbing my shoulder. "Hey. Why don't we put this down and find something halfway decent to watch with dinner?"

"I have to face this trouble…these _thoughts_…sometime, Jack."

He kisses my cheek. "You already have," he says, "and you deserve a break from it. You can't fight and win these battles in one sitting. It's a process."

I lean to the side on my elbow and look over at him. "And you're going to see me through it?"

"Yes, I am."

* * *

"I wanna ride the merry-go-round!"

It's Saturday, around noon. Jack and I decided to take Teri to Magic Mountain for the day, while Kim and Stephen spend their anniversary together. "Sweetheart, we've already been on the merry-go-round twice," Jack says. "And it's lunchtime – I thought you were hungry."

"Merry-go-round!" Teri insists. If I thought Jack was stubborn, I was wrong – his granddaughter is at least twice as stubborn as he is. No one will ever wonder what the family trait is.

"I'll take her," I say.

Jack looks from his granddaughter, whose tiny hand he holds firmly in his, to me. "You sure?" he asks.

I smile. "Yeah. I'll take her to the carousel and we can meet you for lunch in…" I check my watch again. "…half an hour?"

He checks his watch, too, then nods. "Okay. Where do you want to meet for lunch? I can get in line so we're not waiting forever."

"Let's check the map." I pull it out and we browse over it. We agree to meet at the food court in the Colossus County Fair area.

Jack kneels down to be at eye level with Teri. "Listen, sweetheart, Renee's going to take you on the merry-go-round, _but_," he says firmly, when Teri starts to cheer, "you have to be on your best behavior, and do everything Renee tells you to do. Will you do that?"

I want to tell Jack that a toddler doesn't know the value of a promise, but I'm awed by how seriously Teri nods. "Yes, Grandpa," she says somberly.

Jack smiles. "Okay." He kisses her cheek and ruffles her hair before standing up. "Have fun," he says, and then he does something that feels…hell. Magical. He takes Teri's hand and passes it into mine. The girl's hand is soft and warm, and I feel like someone's just handed me their soul on a silver platter.

I swallow, hard. "I'll take care of her, Jack."

His forehead wrinkles as his eyebrows rise in that frank manner of his. "I know you will," he says honestly. He leans over and kisses my cheek, too, although this one's a little more intimate than the one he gave little Teri. "See you in a little while." He turns and walks away, only looking back to smile once.

"We're gonna go on the merry-go-round?" Teri asks, excited.

I look down at the girl whose hand is so fragilely folded into mine. "Yes, we are."

"Yay!"

And then I find out exactly how "fragile" she is, when she drags me forcefully in the direction of the carousel. It makes me laugh, and I jog to keep up with her quick little legs, but deep down, I know the number of things that could crush the toddler's body enough to render her lifeless, and it scares me shitless. Because I'm responsible for her, completely, for the next half-hour, and a million things could happen in a half-hour. I could look away for a second. She could wriggle from my grasp. She could disappear. She could be found by some pervert. She could be hurt.

"Come on, Renee!" Teri squeals. "They're gonna close the gate!"

I look, and the last parent and child in line are passing through the gates, and onto the carousel. The ride operator closes the gate and starts to speak into the intercom, directing parents to fasten their children onto the animals with the safety belts. "They closed the gate!" Teri says, upset.

I look down at her and pat her hand. "That's okay, cutie," I say. "We'll be next."

"You promise?"

Déjà vu. She looks at me with the same skeptical look she gave me when I told her the boogie man was a nice monster. I kneel down by her, just like Jack did, and echo the same words I used back then: "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Teri giggles. "Stick a needle in your eye!" she says, finishing the children's rhyme.

"That's right," I say, chuckling. I stand up and take a look around us. A line's starting to form behind us, and the bored ride operator is flipping through a magazine.

"Thank you, Renee," Teri says in the sweetest voice.

Her adorable words coil together and remind me how precious this child is. I take another cautious look around me. "You're very welcome, Teri."

"Did you like merry-go-rounds when you were little?".

I went to amusement parks…maybe twice in my life as a dependent minor. "Uh-huh," I say.

"Are they your favorite?" she says, dragging out the last word.

"No, but they're pretty close."

"What is your favorite?" she asks, sounding shocked that something else could be better than a merry-go-round.

"I liked the swings best," I say. "You know, the ones that spin around? We passed them earlier."

"I like those too!" she exclaims.

The ride operator opens the gate, and I realize that the last group of people has been let off the carousel. "We're next," I tell her.

"Yay!" She leads me proudly onto the platform, and darts through the polished horses until she finds a white one, with a golden mane and tail. "This one, Renee!" she says, tugging on my hand.

"All right. Up you go!" I lift her onto the horse, and she sits tall, looking small but indomitable on the seemingly-giant horse, her legs too short to reach the widely-looped stirrups. I wrap the belt around her and buckle it. "What horse are you going to ride, Renee?" she asks.

There isn't a snowball's chance in hell I'm going to be anything but plastered to the side of this mechanical horse. "I'm not going to ride, sweetie," I say, smiling to her. "I'm going to stay right here." I hold onto the pole that's going to bounce the horse up and down, as if to cement my point.

"But Grandpa would ride," Teri says.

"Grandpa" isn't terrified of losing her. And if he is, he's at least secure enough to be two feet away from her on the next horse. Me, I'm going to have a heart attack, and I'm practically all over her. I'm standing behind the horse, my back to the mirrored carousel center, and I have the perfect view of everything going on outside the ride. I can rip Teri off the horse and shield her in seconds if someone outside does something unthinkable, like pull out a gun, but I can't stop something larger, like a missile or a bomb.

And now I'm just being melodramatic. I shake my head clear of these ridiculous thoughts and smile at her. "Well, I'm not your Grandpa, cutie. Besides, watching you have fun is fun."

Teri wrinkles her nose, and I know she's thinking what all kids think when adults say that: How could watching someone else have fun be fun?

But the thing is…it's true. I let myself relax a little, and just watch her. The ride starts and she "oohs" and "wheees!" all the way. She's so young…so sweet…so full of life. And, for some reason, a developing bud of her grandpa's no-nonsense attitude, and that's so adorable – though I pity Kim for Teri's upcoming teenage years.

My eyes flicker between Teri and the slightly-blurred crowds, and as my eyes travel over them, I notice one face. It's Jack, leaning against the rails near the exit gate. I only see him for half a second before the scene is whisked out of view by the turning of the ride, but I know, without doubt, without error, that it was him. Wasn't Jack going to wait for us at the food court? My contentment shrivels.

"Renee, Renee, are you watching me?" Teri says. I look back at her, wishing I'd never looked away. That wish is squared when I realize she's waving both arms in the air, kicking the inanimate horse with her legs.

"Teri, please hold on!" I say. "Hold on with one hand, at least."

Teri wrinkles her nose again, but one hand drops to hold the pole, just below my own.

"Thank you, sweetie," I say with no small measure of relief. If I can imagine a missile being launched at a carousel in an amusement park, I can definitely imagine her slipping off the horse. I rub her back to console her for me acting like a grown-up – something every child hates to happen with a potential grown-up ally – and the ride whips around to put Jack into view again. "Look, it's your grandpa!"

"Grandpa?" Teri shrieks. Her head whips around and she waves crazily with the hand that isn't clutching the pole on my authority. I'm not sure if she saw him, but I could just make out him waving back before I couldn't see him any longer.

The ride made one more rotation, in which I prompted Teri soon enough for her to see her grandpa, before it slowed to a stop. Once the ride was completely still, I unbuckled the belt and lowered the girl to the platform. I took her hand before she could dart off, and let her lead me off the ride and toward the exit, where Jack was still waiting.

"Grandpa, did you see me?" Teri asks. I let go of her hand and she launches herself into Jack's arms.

"Yes, I did!" he says, laughing. He's beaming, and I have to smile weakly in return, even though I do still have reservations. I wait patiently for him to explain, and he finally looks at me, shrugging sheepishly. "I realized about halfway to the food court that I had no idea what you guys wanted to eat, so I decided to double back here."

Oh. And here I thought he didn't trust me. Not that I'd blame him – I even acknowledged myself how huge it was for him to let me take her. I nod.

Teri begs for lunch, and Jack takes her by the hand as we head to the food court. A few minutes into the walk, my silent, worried musings are interrupted by the feel of Jack's free hand lightly brushing mine. I hesitate, then turn my hand so that he can slip his into it. He squeezes my hand, and I look at him. He smiles at me, close-mouthed, with a loving look, and kisses me, very simply, on the lips.

Little Teri sees and proclaims, "Yuck!" – but I smile, feeling sure that whatever paranoid fears I had were completely off-base. We can talk about it later, when there isn't a bunch of hot dogs with our names on them, a little girl to entertain, or a fun day to have.

* * *

Writer's Note: Sorry about the late update - it's been one crazy week! IB tests kind of, well, destroyed my brain and about 50% of what remained of my sanity. And then I had our senior trip - to an amusement park, in fact. xD Til 11pm. We got home around one in the morning. (x_x I slept past noon the next day. xD) So this was chapter 8, hope you guys liked it. I tried to make it extra long to make up for the complete lack of updates for the past week.


	9. Chapter 9

We're halfway through our hotdogs when Teri says, "Grandpa, we have to go on the swings next!"

"We do, huh?" Jack says. "Finish your hotdog, first. Slowly, Teri, don't scarf it."

Teri giggles through a mouthful of hotdog and nods.

I smile behind my soda. Teri's such a sweet kid. I've been in California for only a week, and already I can't imagine my life without Jack and his family.

"Grandpa, how come we call these hotdogs?" Teri asks after swallowing.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

Teri looks at me and repeats, "Renee, how come we call these hotdogs?"

How does she go from swings to the origin of the coined word "hotdog"? "I'm not sure. Maybe someone fed one to their dog and the dog burned his mouth?"

"Aww, a dog burned his mouth?" she says, a whine in her tone.

Crap. My mother never had any words of wisdom on the origins of "hotdog," and apparently that was the wrong thing to say. "Well, I don't really know. I was just guessing. I doubt any dog burned his mouth," I say, smiling in what I hope is a reassuring way.

"My favorite response?" Jack says, grabbing my attention. "'Go ask your mother.'"

I stifle a snort. "That's mean."

"Kim put me through the same thing. Trust me, it's not."

We chuckle, and Teri looks between us, not really sure what the joke's about. We finish our hotdogs and head off for the next ride.

* * *

On the way to the swings, we get detoured by Chuckie's Choo Choo, a kiddie train with no room for adults. We go through the line, buckle Teri into a car, and wait diligently by the exit gate like the parents of the other kids do.

Jack slips his hand over mine as we lean against the rail, watching the train chug around the miniature track. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"You seemed sad after the carousel."

Oh…I bite my lip and look down. "Well…when you came back, you really just came back because you didn't know what we wanted for lunch?"

"Yes – well, that and I wanted to see my two favorite people together," he adds, grinning. "Why?"

"Then it's not because…" I look back down with a shake of my head, before meeting his eyes again. "…because you don't trust me with her?"

Genuine shock flashes over his face. "No!" he says. "Not at all – god, I'm so sorry I gave you that impression."

I half-smile and say, "You can't help that I have paranoid delusions, Jack."

"You know that's not what they are," he scolds softly. "You have insecurities – it's understandable. I just wish I hadn't triggered one. I didn't mean to." Then he smiles. "I'm still glad I doubled back to watch, though. I think you'd understand why, if you'd seen the two of you together." His smile broadens as his private thoughts continue, and he drops a kiss on my forehead without elaborating. I'm feeling rather content with the situation, so I decide to curb my curiosity, and just…_be_ with him. It feels nice. Really nice.

"Looks like the ride's over," Jack says, as the train slows to a stop.

The ride operator gets out of the station and pulls up the safety bar in each car, freeing the little kids to run to the gate. Teri joins us, puffing excitedly. "Did you see me?"

"Yes, we saw you," Jack says.

"Swings next?" she asks, looking between us.

Jack and I exchange a look and grin. "Sure," he says.

* * *

"We've gotta hold hands!" Teri insists.

We're in the next group of people for the spinning swings, and Jack's setting his granddaughter into the seat. He slides down the bar and clips it. "Teri, we're not going to be able to hold hands while the ride is moving," he says. "We'll be too far away from each other."

She pouts, but as I watch her more closely, I wonder if I detect a bit of fear in the little girl's eyes. "Are you scared, sweetie?" I ask, trying to keep my tone as tender as possible. "We don't have to go on the ride if you're – if you don't want to." I amended my statement at the last minute – I remember what it was like, having adults prickle my four-year-old pride by saying that I was scared.

"I'm not scared!" the little girl protests.

"Are you sure?" Jack says, thumbing her cheek. "It's okay if you are."

Again Teri denies being scared, and Jack cautiously says, "Okay," before turning to me.

He gives me a questioning look, and I shrug. "She told me earlier that she likes this ride, but…I dunno. For a minute she seemed like she was scared. Maybe I imagined it." Wow, I'm off-base a lot today.

Jack half-grins and says, "Maybe. You never know with little kids." He turns his attention to the swing next to Teri. "Gee, I wonder if I'll fit in this thing," he says loudly in his gruff voice.

Teri giggles. "You'll fit, Grandpa!"

Jack mock-groans as he gets into a swing, his eyes twinkling. I grab the swing on the other side of Teri, and we grin over her. "I guess I do fit. You were right, kiddo." He says this to Teri, but his eyes remain steadily on me.

I chuckle in spite of myself, and the ride lifts off. It's just like I remembered – speedy, airy turns, without the pressure and fear of a rollercoaster. Like I'm in my own little pod, soaring above the park grounds, with the practically inhuman impossibility of falling.

"We're flyyyying!" Teri shrieks, laughing. She waves her arms out in the air. "Come on Renee, you've gotta flap your wings!"

I grin and, with a tiny tinge of embarrassment, copy the girl – I stretch out my arms and flap them. Even as a kid, I rarely did this, but with little Teri, my embarrassment fades completely, and I feel like a kid. A giant kid capable of great violence, but a kid nonetheless.

Jack and I meet eyes across the way, and I start laughing, while he just smiles that gorgeous grin of his.

At the end of the ride, we unbuckle ourselves and help Teri down. As we walk away, Teri tugs on both our sleeves simultaneously. "Now can we hold hands?" she says.

He smiles at her. "We sure can, sweetie. We sure can." He takes her hand, and she takes mine, and we leave the swings. But it doesn't feel like I'm walking away from a piece of my childhood – if anything, I've regained it.

* * *

Kim arrives around eight o'clock to pick Teri up. "Mommy!" Teri says, squeezing her around the knees. "We went to the Magic Place, Mommy!"

"You _did_?" Kim says, feigning shock. (Because we, of course, informed her exactly what our plans for the day were before she left Teri in our care.)

"Yeah! I went on the choo choo and the merry-go-round and the swings – and Renee thought I was scared but I wasn't – and then we went on the superslide and the –" Teri rattled on, and Kim listened with interest until the girl ran out of steam a moment later.

"Thanks for taking her, Dad, Renee," she says, looking between us. "We really, really appreciated it."

"No problem," Jack says. "I'm just sorry we couldn't give you the night off, too. We're just not really equipped to have her here overnight." He gestures around the hotel room.

"Dad, the day was great on its own," Kim says. Her eyebrows rise in the same way that Jack's do. "_Really_."

"You should've come with us, Mommy," Teri says.

"Honey, today was your Mommy and Daddy's special day together, remember?" Jack reminds her. "That's why we could take you to Magic Mountain."

"Oh." She bites on her lip, thinking about that.

"Don't worry, we'll do something fun all together," Kim assures her daughter, looking between all three of us. Jack and I nod in confirmation. "Meanwhile, it's time for you to go to bed." Kim takes Teri's hand. "Thanks again, Dad." She hugs him one-armed and he kisses her temple. "You too, Renee," she says, surprising me with a hug as well.

"You're welcome," I say.

We wave them off, and then close and lock the door behind them. I slip an arm around Jack and whisper in his ear, "You're an amazing grandfather, Jack."

He turns his head and grins at me. "You're pretty amazing yourself," he murmurs.

We kiss sweetly and simply. Jack's arms ravel around me, and I sigh into his mouth. We part, breathing onto each other's lips as we smile at each other. "I don't know how you do it," I say, shaking my head in awe.

"Do what? Kiss so well?" He wriggles his eyebrows.

"Hmm – that too, but I meant be a parent. A grandparent." I laugh under my breath. "I spent one day with a toddler and I'm exhausted."

"Well, she _is_ Kim's daughter," he says, laughing.

"I don't think Kim deserves _all_ the blame, there, bub," I say, poking him.

"I suppose it's partly Stephen's fault."

"Your fault, too. If Teri is Kim's fault, then Kim is _your _fault," I tease.

"Oooh, oww, you wound me!" he says, clutching his heart jokingly.

"I'll show you wounding," I threaten tiredly.

"Oh, you will, will you?"

He sways me away from the door and I yawn. "Yes. Tomorrow."

We curl into bed. It doesn't matter that it's only a little after eight p.m. and we're copying a toddler's bedtime – we're both dogged tired. Jack spoons me and kisses my neck. "Goodnight, honey," he sighs.

Honey – he just called me honey. It's not unusual to hear him use that nickname – he calls Teri and Kim both "honey" frequently. But on his lips to me, the word sounds…softer. More intimate.

"I love you" floats to the top of my mind. It's at the tip of my tongue, begging to spill from my lips. I open and close my mouth several times – probably looking like a goldfish, which thankfully he can't see.

I settle for, "Good night, Jack," but he's already snoring softly, and I'm still itching to say those three "little" words. But…I'm also deciding that I'm going to say them. Soon.

I mean, if you're struggling _not_ to say them, then it's probably right that they should be said – right?

* * *

Writer's Note: :) Hmm...I wonder what will happen next...


	10. Chapter 10

When I wake up, it's 5:54 a.m. I stretch and bury my head into Jack's shoulder. He continues to sleep noiselessly, on his back, his face smooth and worry-free. I love watching him sleep, especially when he sleeps without nightmares.

After a minute, I sit up and run my fingers through my hair. Coffee. I need coffee. I get up and pad over to the counter, where the coffee pot sits empty with a packet of ground hotel coffee leaning against it. I fix the coffee and turn around, leaning against the counter as it gets to work on my wake-up juice. My eyes wander over the room, finally settling on my duffle bag, which ended up in the corner by the desk. _The Jungle Books_, the thick volume that contains both the first and second Jungle Books, stares temptingly at me from the outside pocket. I walk over and pull it out. My fingers probe the cover softly. Maybe it's strange, but I like to feel a book in my hands. I could just as easily, and far more conveniently, have dozens of books downloaded onto one of those electronic reader devices, and still get the full story without loss of detail or diction, but those feel less real somehow. Data isn't tangible, but books are. And for some reason that I can't grasp, that makes books more real, less…I don't know. Erasable.

I take Rudyard Kipling's collection and climb back into bed, propping the pillows up. Leaning back, I open _The Jungle Books_ to a random page and start to read. I've had this book since I was fourteen years old, and I know every story practically by heart, so it's no surprise to me when I understand exactly what's going on. The page I turned to is in the middle of Letting in the Jungle, when Mowgli is rallying the jungle animals to destroy the village. I read this story for a while, but…my mind starts to wander. To things I've done. Kidnapping Wilson from the FBI. Sawing off his ear, slowly while he screamed. Breaking his ribs with my fist. Burning his nipples with matches. Suffocating him in a tub. I flinch at these memories – these memories of things I can do when I become Zadan – and nearly drop the book. So I flip back to a story called The White Seal. It's lighter, and I find myself starting to relax as my mind immerses in the cold waters and sandy beaches of Nova Scotia, where the seals fight and play and mate.

I don't look up for a long while, and when I do, Jack's looking up at me, watching me calmly. "Morning," he says.

I smile and close the book around my finger. "Morning," I reply in kind. "Did I wake you up?"

"No. I woke myself up." He pushes himself up and leans over to kiss my cheek. "I'll be right back," he says, sliding off the bed and walking toward the bathroom.

"Coffee should be ready soon."

"Great, thanks." He closes the door behind him, and I open my book back up, but my attention is divided. Part of me is listening to the sounds coming from the closed bathroom – the running of the water, the shuffle of cloth… I've been alone for so long, that part of it feels unnatural, the normal, everyday sounds and actions that come with sharing a room and a life with someone. But at the same time, it feels right. _He_ feels right.

Jack comes back out a few minutes later, strolling right over to me, and leaning over in one swoop to plant a deep kiss on my lips. "Coffee?" he asks.

"Mmm, please."

He goes and pours us each a cup and brings them back over. He nods at my book. "So, that's a collection of short stories, right?"

"Yep," I say. "There's poetry, too – a poem at the end of every story."

"Which one are you reading now?"

"The White Seal."

"That sounds familiar," he says, musing. "Didn't they make a movie about it?"

"Yes, an animated one, by Chuck Jones."

"They also did…ah…that one with the mongoose?"

I nod. "_Rikki Tiki Tavi_."

"I think Kim has _Rikki Tiki Tavi_, but I don't think she has _The White Seal_. Do you think Teri would like it?"

"I don't know, Jack – I don't know her very well. It's a cute movie. If she likes cute animals, she'll probably like it."

Jack grins. "What little girl doesn't like cute animals?"

"Point taken," I say, laughing.

"What's the story about?"

I close my book and tilt my head, smiling. "The main character is a seal called Kotick. He's the first white seal the herd has ever known. The herd's being hunted by humans, and when Kotick grows up, he leaves to go find an island hidden from mankind, to save his herd."

Jack nods. "Sounds interesting," he comments.

"No, it doesn't," I chide, "but the fact that you're taking an interest in something I like is very sweet. Thank you."

"Am I that transparent?"

"Hmm. Not always," I say.

"Good. Can't have all the mystery revealed." He grins at me.

"Heh. Mystery."

He leans back, playing shocked. "What, you don't think I'm mysterious?"

I look over him, my eyes sweeping down his body before returning to his eyes. "Maybe a little," I say. "But the important stuff, I already know."

"Like?"

I touch his cheek and lean in, my face to the base of his neck. I press a soft kiss to the flesh there. "You're caring." I press another kiss, this time slightly higher. "And smart." Kiss. "And courageous." Kiss. "And warm." Kiss. "And…"

My next adjective is lost as our lips meet.

* * *

"So, definitely not the Downtown Hollywood place?" he says later that afternoon.

"Yes." He eyes me. "Yes as in no to the Downtown Hollywood place," I clarify.

"Okay. That leaves us with the one in West Lake. Is that okay?"

I nod. "It's fine with me."

"I'll call the manager, then. If we can get the papers sorted out in the next couple of days, we can make the payments, and I can send for the furniture." I exhale deeply, and he gives me an odd look. "What is it?" he asks.

"We're really doing this," I say.

He smiles knowingly and rubs my thigh. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"It's just that…I never imagined I'd be here."

"I'm guessing you don't mean here in California."

Again I nod, closing my eyes. "Here, as in…" I open my eyes, and meet his. "Happy."

His hand leaves my thigh to tip up my chin for his kiss. "Then you never get to leave here," he murmured softly.

The words sink in after a moment, and then I giggle in spite of myself. He lifts an eyebrow, and I say, "Who would've thought you'd be such a romantic?"

"You see a side of me that no one else sees," Jack says. He pauses. "Which I guess is fitting, since you know me like…" He seems to struggle with his thoughts. "…Like no one else does."

"Which is also fitting, since I could say the same of you."

He kisses me again, his tongue sliding against mine. I moan into his mouth and he tugs me closer to straddle him. Hands grope and slide, disappearing beneath clothing before the clothing itself disappears. We make love there, at the end of the bed, too immersed in each other to care about the time of day or anything else.

* * *

Jack's cell rings. We've been resting together, tangled in each other after sex, and he gives a small groan before he reaches for it. "Yeah?" he answers. He frowns. "What? How? …Chloe, you're _joking_." Jack gently squeezes my shoulder, tugging slightly, and I sit up to free him. He sits up, too, rubbing his hand over his face. "Well, what do you want me to do about it? I'm out, Chloe, and so is Renee."

I get a sinking feeling in my belly, and Jack's conversation continues none too pleasantly. Finally, he says shortly, "I'll get back to you, Chloe," and hangs up.

"What's going on, Jack?" I ask.

"Meran is dead," Jack says. "He was assassinated the day we left. Apparently, CTU hasn't got any leads, except for Dana Walsh, and someone tried to take her out, too."

"So there's more than just the IRK's radicals behind President Hassan's murder."

"So it seems. But that's not the worst part. President Taylor wants it covered up, because apparently, the evidence Walsh supposedly has incriminates the Russians, and that's threatening her little peace treaty."

Russians…Russians…something's nagging me from the back of my mind, but I'm not sure what it is.

"_And_ she's jumped in bed with Charles Logan to do it," he adds bitterly.

"What?" I exclaim. He nods, casting me a knowing glare. "Is she insane? That's political suicide."

"Not to mention he's a self-serving, murderous son of a bitch."

I go quiet, my preoccupation leaving me. I'd forgotten about Jack's history with Logan, about how Logan killed President David Palmer – someone that had been a close friend of Jack's. "I'm sorry," I say truthfully. "I forgot he was complicit in President Palmer's murder."

Jack gets that distant, quietly angry look in his eye for a moment, then shakes his head. "It's okay," he says. Then, a moment later, he says, "No…it's not. The President is covering up the Russians' part in terrorist actions in _our __country_, and she's enlisted the devil to help her do it."

"She's doing something stupid, but at least her intentions are good."

"Intentions, my ass," he mutters. "Doesn't she realize that if the Russians have backed terrorist actions on U.S. soil, that they're not going to hold up their end of the peace agreement?"

"I don't know, Jack…"

"Well, Chloe wanted to know if we remember anything suspicious from the crime scene. She wants to expose this."

I frown. That nagging notion pulses in the back of my head once again. "Russians…" I murmur. "Wait…Jack, I think I saw someone. An EMT. He looked familiar, like someone I saw around from my days with Vladimir's group."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wasn't sure. I didn't think much of it at the time."

"Oh for…" He sighs and rubs his face again.

"I'm sorry, Jack," I say, sounding and feeling a little hurt.

He looks at me then, and sighs with a small "huff" through his nose. "I'm sorry," he says, rubbing my knee. "It's not our problem anymore. Like I told Chloe, we're out." He gets up, then, and walks over to the window, fingering aside the sheers to gaze out upon the street.

I look down at my knee, still warm from his touch. My fingers twitch, and I'm sure that what I'm about to do is a bad idea, but I do it anyway. I get up and follow him to the window, hugging him from behind. I drop a soft kiss on his back before stepping back. "Come on, let's go," I say.

Jack lets the curtains fall back into place and turns. "Where?"

"Back to New York," I say. "To help Chloe expose the President's cover-up."

He stares at me like I'm crazy. "Renee, honey, _why_?" he asks.

I step closer to him and put my hands over his heart. "Because I see that look in your eye," I respond. "You want the truth to get out. You want to stop this."

He looks at me uneasily, but I see a flicker of agreement in those blue eyes of his. "If I do this, I could be starting a war."

"A war's going to start anyway, and we both know it. Only it's going to be worse, because the world will know that the president tried to cover up the people behind the murder of another world leader."

"And if they successfully cover it up? What then?"

"Then the Russians will look for any excuse to pull out," I say. "Jack, I was exposed to some of the shadiest of officials in the Russian government and law enforcement when I was undercover. Some of them were shadier than the mobsters. Just because they signed the peace agreement, it doesn't mean they'll hold to it."

"I…" Jack sighs. "You're right. I do want to help Chloe. But…" He rubs my shoulders. "I want _us_ more."

I frown. "Jack, whatever we do to stop this will never change what we have."

"I know, but it would put us in danger. One of us could get hurt. Or killed. I don't know if I could live with that."

I nod. "It's your choice." I lean over and kiss him, softly. "Whatever you decide, Jack, I'm with you. Whether it's to New York or to West Lake. Anywhere."

He kisses me back. "Thank you," he says. He keeps kissing me, his kisses raw and needy, and I swallow each one.

I'm going to be there with him…anywhere, wherever…no matter what.

* * *

Writer's Note: Thanks again for all the support you guys keep giving this story. :) I tweaked what happened with Wilson just a smidge, since Renee's torturing options would have been relatively limited in the FBI holding room, and it seemed appropriate to me that she, as Renee Zadan, would have been a little more sadistic than those parameters allowed. Also, I know the delay with the season 8 plot is a little weird, but then again, it's also kind of weird how every conflict on the show is wrapped up neatly in one day, so I don't feel so bad having the issues here expanded over several weeks.


	11. Chapter 11

We'd decided to leave in the morning, and to grab whatever sleep we could last night. Knowing us, this mission could leave us running for up to thirty-six hours without rest.

"All set, Jack?" I ask, shouldering my half-empty duffle bag. I've kept a few sets of clothes and _The Jungle Books_ – not that I expect to be reading, mind. Most people bring books or magazines because they expect to be waiting for hours to board the plane. I half expect some armed terrorist to start a firefight at the gate. No, I'm bringing my book as a sort of security blanket more than anything else. Besides, if I sit alert and at ready the whole time, the firefight won't happen.

"Yep." He's ready, too, his gun tucked into his jeans at the small of his back, covered by his heavy tan jacket. He stops me as I head out the door. "Listen, Renee…I don't want you coming with me."

Taken aback, I stutter, "What? Why? No, Jack, I'm not dis –"

"Renee, please just listen to me." He squeezes my shoulder, and I close my mouth. He continues emphatically, "You know there's no one I'd trust more to have my back in the field. You've saved me on more than one occasion, and you trusted me when you had no reason to. But I need you here. When I get involved in heavy work like this, the people I love are _always_ targeted."

A light clicks on in my head. "Kim and Teri."

Jack nods. "I want you here to protect them. Please. I need to know they're safe, and the only way I'll know that is if you're here."

Part of me can't believe I'd be leaving him. I hate doing that. The last time I let him leave without me, he was tortured and CTU didn't find him for ages. But…I close my eyes and sigh in surrender. Jack's family means everything to him, and if I can somehow give him the peace of mind to do what he needs to do, then… "I'll do it."

"Thank you," he breathes.

"But I'm going with you to the airport," I say. "I'll see you off, and then I'll start playing guard dog."

He smiles wryly. "Okay."

* * *

_"American Airlines, flight to New York now boarding. American Airlines, flight to New York now boarding."_

Jack rubs my knee. "That's me," he murmurs. He stands, and I stand, too. He pulls me into a big bear hug, swaying me gently. "Thank you again," he murmurs.

I still don't like it, letting him go fight government conspiracies alone, but I know I have to do this. "Yeah," I say.

"Watch your back," he says, resting his forehead against mine, before tilting his head to kiss me.

When we part, I whisper, "You, too."

He gives me one last squeeze and then releases me, shouldering his messenger bag. He walks stoically to the departure gate, turning around to give me a half-smile and a wave. And at that point, I can't hold back anymore. I stride forward rapidly, watching his face fall worriedly, and I pull him back into a deep kiss. He palms my cheek and responds, and we hang onto each other for a few more moments, until the loudspeaker announces the last chance to board the flight. I let go, and as I meet his eyes, I find the words just flowing from my mouth, like a smooth, swift waterfall: "I love you, Jack."

He visibly freezes at my words, and I feel the seconds ticking by. The "oh my god, what the fuck have I done?" feeling starts to mount, and I tentatively ask, "Jack?"

The loudspeaker again threatens the last chance, and he looks around awkwardly. "I've got to go," he says. He starts to move away, then jerks back in to place one last kiss on the corner of my mouth, and then turns and hurriedly disappears into the tunnel.

I watch the empty way with a sinking feeling in my stomach. My cheeks burn, and I try to ignore the stare of the airport officials that are sheepishly trying to ignore me back. I turn and leave the gate, lost in my thoughts. The two fifty dollar bills Jack passed to me – just in case I need anything while he's in New York – burn in my pocket, a burn that matches the burn of embarrassment I wear on my cheeks.

I never expected he'd love me. I never dreamed it, either, not in my wildest of dreams.

…But I never stopped hoping he would.

* * *

I'm in our hotel room, half an hour later, when the phone rings. Who would be calling me? "Hello?" I answer, frowning into the mouthpiece.

"_Renee, it's Kim."_

Oh shit. We never told Kim what's going on. "Hey, Kim."

"_What do you and my dad think about coming over for dinner? Stephen's cooking, and trust me, he's a _great_ cook. Oh, _excuse me_, chef,"_ she corrects, giggling at a voice in the background - probably her husband's.

"Umm…" I rub my forehead. "Jack's not exactly here."

"_What? Where is he?"_

Probably 30,000 feet in the air over Nevada somewhere, by now. "Something came up in New York. One of the people we arrested before we left was assassinated. Jack needed to go finish what he started." It was about as truthful as I could be without divulging dangerous information over a non-secure line.

Kim sighs on the other end. _"My dad, always trying to be the hero,"_ she says. _"Well, come over anyway. It's a great opportunity to talk about my dad behind his back. You can fill me in on what's going on, and we can fill you up with my husband's famous lasagna."_ She laughs into the phone, as though inviting her father's girlfriend over for dinner while he's flying off to arrest criminals is the most natural thing in the world. …Which, for the daughter of Jack Bauer, probably is, actually…

I smile weakly. "Sounds good. What time?"

"Around six?"

"I'll be there," I promise. We exchange goodbyes and I put the phone in its cradle, sighing deeply. Dinner with Jack's family, with no Jack present. Well, I might as well start my bodyguard-ing early. I'm not sure Kim will be too pleased that her dad left a babysitter for her, though…

I sit for a few minutes, deflated and not quite sure what to do with myself for nine hours when the phone rings again. "Hello?"

"_Renee?"_

I slump back. "Jack…"

"_Hi. I called you just a few minutes ago, but…"_ His unspoken question rang on the line between us.

"Oh, I was talking to Kim. …Why, what's wrong?" I demand, immediately envisioning terrible things – a hijacking, the plane crashing, a gorgeous foreign singer trying to seduce him…

"_Nothing, nothing at all,"_ he hurriedly assures me. _"I just, well, I just wanted to hear your voice, is all."_ He pauses for a moment, then says, _"So, you were talking to Kim?"_

"Ah – yeah. She invited us over for dinner tonight. Apparently Steven makes famous lasagna."

"_She's not lying,"_ he says, sounding amused. _"Did you tell her I couldn't make it?"_

"Yeah, and she told me to come over anyway. Apparently we're going to talk about you behind your back."

"_Women,"_ Jack mutters good-naturedly. I can practically hear him smile.

"It's what she said, anyway," I say, shrugging.

"_Did you tell her I asked you to watch them?"_

"Do I sound crazy?" I ask. "I'm going to hold off on that as much as humanly possible. I want a confrontation with your daughter about as much as I want a wasp nest in our room."

"_Don't worry,"_ he says. _"She'll probably put all the blame on me, anyway."_

"That's not preferable, Jack." I don't want to cause a rift between him and his daughter, not so soon after they've reconciled.

"_I…"_ Jack hesitates, sighing in the background, away from the mouthpiece, as though he doesn't want me to know that he's about to say something difficult. His tone becomes louder as he brings the mouthpiece back near his lips. _"Renee, I didn't call just to hear your voice. I… What you said earlier…I just didn't want you to think I don't feel the same way, because I do."_

"I understand, Jack…"

"No, you don't," he says gently. "Every time I…every time I even dare to dream that I could care about someone this much, something happens to her. That's why I froze when you told me you love me. But I…I need you to know that – I love you too."

My whole body feels lighter. I think this is what people mean when they talk about their hearts soaring. I brush my hair back and can't help but smile broadly, almost gasping out of relief and laughter. "You don't know how much it means to hear you say that," I say. I sink onto the bed, and lie back, pressing my knees into my chest with my feet in the air. I feel like a giddy schoolgirl, but I know it's not for shallow or insignificant reasons.

_"I think I do, because it's how I felt when I heard you say them. …Well, after I was done freaking out."_

My smile ebbs in waves of joy, trembling too hard to stay still. "Then I should say it again. I love you," I say softly.

He huffs a chuckle. I can just imagine those blue eyes shining beneath a forehead scrunched in laughter. _"I love you, too," _he replies, just as softly.

I hesitate, and say, "Be careful. For the record, I still don't like leaving you alone to do this."

"_I know. Thank you for doing it, though. You're protecting the only things I treasure."_

"I know."

"_Renee?"_

"Yes, Jack?"

"_That means you, too, so watch your back."_

I close my eyes. This whole conversation has just touched me more deeply than any other I've ever had – touched me with soft, probing fingers. "I will. You too. Call me when you land?"

_"It'll be the first thing I do."_

We disconnect the call, and I put the phone back in its cradle. I don't do this reluctantly; earlier, it felt like I was continents away from Jack. Now, after that conversation…no, after hearing Jack tell me he loves me…I feel like I never left his side, even though I know that's logically impossible. I just hope he feels the same, and that this feeling of closeness brings us luck in our missions: his, to expose a conspiracy, and mine, to protect his family.

* * *

Writer's Note: I'm sorry, guys. I know that a bunch of you were looking forward to seeing Renee go with Jack, but don't worry – there is a method to my madness. There will be angst ahead, and I don't want to spoil the events to come, so I'll leave it at that, asking only that you trust a fellow J/R shipper… :) -wolfbones


	12. Chapter 12

The taxi pulls up in front of the house at about a quarter to six. I pay the driver and step out. Kim's house is a modest one-story, painted shades of sunny orange. A tree stands in the yard with a toddler's swing hanging from it, and a fat, plastic tricycle sits on the porch. I exhale deeply and walk up to the front.

I knock on the door and I hear tiny feet stomping wildly up to the front. The door swings open, revealing a tiny Teri in pink overalls. "Renee's here! Renee's here!"

More rapid footsteps. "Teri, you know better than to open the door without me or your father with you," Kim scolds.

"Sorry, Mommy."

Kim smiles at me. "Hi Renee," she says. "Come on in."

"Thank you." I follow them into the house, with little Teri tugging on my pant leg.

"You have great timing – dinner's almost ready."

"I'd hoped I'd come on time," I reply, feeling more than a little awkward.

We stand in the living room for a moment, and I watch Kim smile nervously at me, and I realize that I'm not the only one that feels awkward without Jack around. Kim looks away and says, "Hey, Teri? Didn't you want to show us what you made in school today?"

The girl cheers and runs off, presumably to her room to get whatever she'd made.

"She's adorable," I say somewhat wistfully.

"You're good with her," Kim says. "Do you want kids?"

I smile, feeling sad, and say, "I don't know." How do you say, "The only one I ever want to be with and have kids with is your dad, and I don't know what he wants, therefore I don't know," to the daughter of said man? Suddenly just wanting to get away from that particular deep topic, I joke, "Maybe I'll just steal Teri!" and swing the girl up into my arms when she comes running out. Her painting flutters to the floor as I swing her around.

Teri shrieks with laughter and Kim laughs, too. "Why go through the bother of stealing her? I'll sell her to you for…hmm…ten socks," she jokes back.

"_Mommy_? You're gonna sell me for _socks_?" Teri exclaims. She smiles widely, not believing a word, probably feeling proud for understanding that her Mommy was only joking.

"Hmm, I'll give you nine socks for her," I say.

"What? Nah, she's at least worth twelve socks!"

"Daddy, Daddy! Save me!" Teri shouts, continuing to shriek with laughter.

Stephen walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a hand towel. "What's going on in here?" he asks, amused.

"We're negotiating Teri's price in socks," Kim says, wriggling her eyebrows at her husband.

"So I won't have to steal her," I add, swinging Teri around once more in my arms for good measure.

Stephen exaggerates a gasp, dropping his towel and clapping his hands to his cheeks. "Oh _no_! I'll save you, baby girl!" He rushes over and swoops in. I willingly pass Teri into her father's arms, but Teri still giggles and cheers like her Daddy had fought an epic battle to save her. Stephen spins her around and around. Together they chant, "We won, we won," while Kim and I just laugh.

After a few moments, Stephen puts Teri down and wipes his brow. He turns to me and wipes his hand on his jeans, holding it out to me. "Hi, Renee," he says, laughing, probably at the belatedness of his greeting.

I shake his hand. "Hi."

"Well." He looks between me and his wife. "Dinner's ready. Let's eat."

* * *

Our joking really broke the ice, and I feel very comfortable as I sit down at the Bauer table. It's strange…I know Kim and her daughter probably have Stephen's last name, but I still can't help but think of them as "Bauers." But I guess that's understandable – they both are, in several ways, very much like Jack.

Kim and Stephen discuss work for a few minutes, while Teri prattles off about preschool – what they painted, what songs they sang, what coloring books they colored in, etc. She also talks about who're friends, who're best friends, who're enemies, who're "best-best friends"…I never realized that the social structure among four year olds is so complex. But it's kind of cute, in a way – there's a different handshake for "best-best friends" than there is for "best friends" and a different secret knock for "best-best friends in the whole wide world" than there is for "just friends." I smile as Teri talks, trying to remember what my own preschool experience was like. Geez…that was over thirty years ago. _Now_ I feel old.

When Teri finally stops for air, Kim cuts in. "So, Renee, you and Dad were looking for apartments, last I knew. How's that going?"

I swallow a forkful of lasagna. "Pretty well. We found a place in West Lake that we'd like to move into. Jack was going to call the manager today, but…"

"Oh, that's right," Kim says, frowning. "You said Dad was flying back to New York, that a killer had been assassinated. What's going on?"

"I'm not sure," I admit. "But I think a Russian assassin was posing as an EMT while we were there."

"You recognized him?"

"I think so. He looked familiar from the days when I was undercover with the Russians."

"Then, did he recognize you?"

My heart drops into my stomach for half a second. "I don't know," I say. "If he did, he didn't let on, and he didn't try to do anything about me." …Or so I know, anyway.

"So what's Dad going to do if you're not sure who it was?"

"Someone attempted to assassinate Dana Walsh, who claims to have evidence about who was backing President Hassan's killers. He's probably going to start with her."

"Someone else was behind all this?" Kim says incredulously. "Nothing's ever simple, is it? There's always a bigger fish chomping away behind the smaller fish, isn't there?"

"I guess so," I murmur. I slide my fork around to gather the last of the sauce on my plate.

"I just don't get one thing. You worked with him during the terrorist bombings last year."

She pauses, and I say, cautiously, "Yes."

"So how come you're not working with him this time?"

They never actually come outright and call you a sleezy bitch that doesn't care about what happens to him… It doesn't help matters that it's been hours and he should have landed in New York by now. "He.." Uh… "He just wants me here in case something happens." There. That was satisfactorily vague.

"I never pictured you for the type to be okay on the sidelines," Kim says. Then a worried look flashes over her face. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was rude."

"Not at all," I say. "In fact, you're right – I'm not happy sitting on the sideline. But…" He looked at me with those eyes and pleaded in that tone and used the airtight argument of "protect my family" and I agreed in an instant. "He wanted me here," I finished.

Kim doesn't look entirely convinced, but she lets the matter drop. It's only a matter of time before she picks it up again, though…

* * *

We talk well into the evening. Around eight thirty, Teri yawns, and Kim says, "Okay, it's time for my little princess to go to sleep in her royal chamber." She lifts the girl from her booster seat.

"But I'm not tired," Teri whines.

"Yes, you are," Stephen says, chuckling as he loads the dishwasher.

"But Renee's here," Teri says, switching tactics in a very Bauer-like manner.

"And you can see Renee the next time she visits," Kim says, kissing Teri's cheek. "Say goodnight, cutie."

The girl curls her fingers as she waves. "Night-night, Renee," she says with a reluctant yawn.

"Goodnight, Teri," I say, smiling.

Kim carries her daughter out of the kitchen. I grab her plate and mine, and join Stephen by the dishwasher. He smiles at me and takes each plate as I hand them to him. By the time the table is cleared, Kim's back, and Stephen closes the dishwasher with an audible "click."

"Coffee, anyone?" Stephen asks.

"Sure, honey," Kim says.

"Thanks," I say in agreement.

Stephen nods and turns to get some mugs out of the cabinet. For a man of few words, Stephen is polite and courteous, and certainly dotes on his wife.

"Let's go into the living room," Kim says. Stephen hands me a steaming mug and I follow them into the other room, and take a seat in the recliner across from the couch, where Kim and her husband sit side-to-side. I take a sip of the coffee – it's a little sweet, but it's okay. I'm not usually one for nighttime coffee, either, except during extreme situations, but the thing about after-dinner coffee is that no one actually wants to drink coffee – they just want a reason to sit around talking for a few more hours .

"Renee, can I ask you something?" Kim asks.

Oh boy. "Sure," I say. I try to keep my voice nonchalant, but I'm not sure that I've succeeded.

She bites her lip and looks down at her mug. "Did my dad ask you to stay here to watch us?"

I should have known she'd see right through my attempt to vaguely mask my reason for being here instead of with Jack. "Yeah," I admit reluctantly. "Kim, he loves and trusts you – both of you. But the people he's trying to expose, they're ruthless, and won't hesitate to hurt any of you to hurt or control him. And I care about you all – you, Teri, Jack – to let that happen. And if I'm here…" I shrug. "I can head off any attempts to do just that."

Kim and Stephen exchange a look. "I understand the reasoning behind my father's decision to have you stay here," Kim says, "all too well, in fact. I'm no stranger to the concept." Stephen takes her hand comfortingly, and I remember suddenly that Kim was kidnapped, too, along with Jack's late wife.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't know how I forgot."

"No, no, it's okay," she says quickly. "What I mean is, I understand it, and I still don't want you hovering around to protect us." She gets that stricken look again. "Not that you aren't welcome here. I just…" She huffs, frustrated, and looks to her husband. "Honey?"

"I _think_ what we mean is," Stephen says with a small smile, "we can't live in fear, constantly watching our backs. Tomorrow morning, Kim is going to work, I am going to work, and our daughter is going to preschool. And you shouldn't worry about us."

I respect their determination to keep living their lives, but I also have to keep my promise to Jack. A terrorist isn't going to back off because they're an inconvenience to this family's schedule. "I'm going to worry about you anyway," I say. "Jack, too. At…" I rack my brain, looking for a suitable compromise. I sigh. "At least let me know the minute you need me, for anything."

"Kim, honey," Stephen says suddenly, "I agree with you, you know that. I wouldn't have just said what I said if I didn't. But Renee does have a point. So why don't we do this: until your father's done with whatever he's doing in New York, we'll call Renee every few hours during the day to check in. I know we're grown adults," he continues, gently cutting off Kim's protest, "and we like to think we can always take care of ourselves, but Renee was an FBI agent. She knows things we don't. Let's say something does happen to one of us – she knows exactly who to call and how to make things happen to get us back again."

I really, really like Stephen right now. "Yes, that's a great idea," I say. If they check in with me, I'll know they're okay, and I won't be breathing down their necks.

"Okay," Kim says, nodding. She takes a sip, looking unhappy. But then she smiles anyway, and says, "Thank you, Renee. For caring – about my family. Especially about my father."

I swallow hard. "I'd do anything for him."

* * *

I'm awakened by a shrill ring. I blink my eyes rapidly, turning over to look at the clock. It's one in the morning. A few hours earlier, Stephen had driven me back to the hotel, where I collapsed all too willingly onto the bed for some sleep…sleep that hadn't come until about an hour ago. I'd been too worried about Jack, who should have been in New York this last afternoon. It only takes maybe four or five hours to fly trans-country.

The phone continues to ring shrilly, and I frown, patting for the phone. I feel it, and grab it, pulling it up to my ear. "Hello?" I mumble.

"_Renee? It's me."_

My eyes fly open and I shoot into a sitting position. "Jack? Where are you?"

"_I'm in New York, finally. The plane made a stop in Denver and was delayed for five hours. I tried to find another flight, but there wasn't one – at least, nothing that would go any faster."_

I sigh in relief, reflexively. "I'm so glad. When you didn't call, I started to get so worried."

"_I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to worry you."_

The corner of my mouth turns up. "It wasn't your fault," I say. "I'm just glad there _wasn't_ a hijacking or something."

Jack huffs a laugh_. "How're things going with Kim and her family?"_

"Good, good," I say. "They won't let me put them under house arrest for the duration of your absence, but they've agreed to call and check in every few hours."

His laughter is beautiful to my tired ears. _"That sounds like Kim."_

My fingers twirl the cord a bit. "You headed to CTU?"

"_Yeah. I'm going to start with Dana Walsh – see what she knows."_

"Okay. Watch her, Jack. I didn't really see much of her but from what I saw, she looked like a real psychopath."

"_Don't worry, I can handle her."_

"I know you can," I whisper. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

There's a slight pause over the line, and then Jack speaks again. _"I'm going to come back to you, honey. I give you my word."_

Realistically, I know that Jack's word won't stop a bullet from killing him, or any other superhuman things, but just hearing it puts me more at ease. Because Jack's notorious for keeping his word, no matter what. "I love you, Jack."

"_I love you, too. I've got to go now. The cab just pulled up outside CTU. Get some sleep, okay? And be careful."_

"I will."

The dial tone meets me, and I set the phone back down, lying back. Sleep comes more quickly to me now, and I drift off with thoughts of Jack in my mind, and in my heart.


	13. Chapter 13

Writer's Note: Extra long chapter for you guys, since, well, studying for finals is such a freshman thing to do. XD (I joke. You should definitely study. Don't be a procrastinator like me.)

* * *

Kim calls me the next morning. She has me on speaker, and the minute I answer, she says loudly, _"Okay, guys, everyone say 'Good morning, Renee!'"_

Three voices laughingly wish me good morning, and I have to chuckle. "Morning," I say.

"_We're on our way out the door. We just didn't want you to worry,"_ Kim says sweetly.

I swear, they're all enjoying this way too much. "Okay, wise guys," I say. "Be careful."

"_Yes, mommy."_

"Are you thirty or are you twelve?"

"_Somebody's grumpy,"_ Kim sings. I hear giggles in the background, and I know little Teri must just love all the excitement of the morning. Lucky kid.

"Sorry, Kim. I should've warned you: I have no sense of humor until I've had my coffee." I laugh hollowly, rubbing my eyes.

"_Hmm. We forgive you. We'll call around lunchtime, okay? Well, Stephen and I will. Teri will be in preschool."_

I frown. Oooh. I didn't think of how to check up on Teri. "What's her preschool's number?"

"_What? You're really going to call them?"_

"Well, Teri can't exactly say, 'Teacher, I need to call my grandpa's girlfriend so she knows I'm all right.'"

"_You can't exactly say, 'Hi, I'm Teri's grandpa's girlfriend, is she okay today?' either."_

"You've got me there." I sigh and lean back against the pillows, staring blankly at the ceiling.

I hear them murmuring on the other side of the line, and Kim comes back to say, _"Why don't I just do the checking up on Teri? It'll be more natural for her mother to ask about her, after all. I'll make up some excuse."_

"Thanks, Kim."

"_Of course,"_ she says, as though paranoid check-ups precautionary against a terrorist abduction are a completely normal part of her routine. I hang up the phone, a little saddened that such a nice woman is so accustomed to strange and desperate measures that most households across America can't even imagine needing.

* * *

I sit on the bed again. The T.V.'s on, but I'm not really watching it.

My second full day in L.A. without Jack feels as long as the first. I never realized how much I had grown used to having him around until he wasn't there anymore. He called me twice during the day, the first time to give an update on the situation in New York, and the second time to check up on us. Both calls were briefer and curter than I would have liked, but it was better than not hearing from him at all.

I invited Kim and her family to a late lunch. That was nice. I'm starting to feel more and more welcome. Kim still has obvious reservations about me playing guard-dog, but Stephen seems to think it's a good idea, so she keeps her opinions to herself.

Little Teri is oblivious to the worry around her. But, then, we are trying to hide it from her – and maybe ourselves, too. We laugh and trade stories and yeah, we do talk about Jack, but in the pause following every laugh, every story, every little talk, the worry seems to cackle at us, as though it's in the next booth over, just enjoying the show.

I turn the volume on the T.V. down until it's a dull murmur, and fish in my duffle bag for a book. My hand hits my favorite book first, and although I'd been reaching for _Oedipus_, I pulled out _The Jungle Books_ anyway. I flip through the pages, absentmindedly, until I come to a passage that speaks to me.

"_Then Kotick roared to the seals: "I've done my best for you these five seasons past. I've found you the island where you'll be safe, but unless your heads are dragged off your silly necks you won't believe. I'm going to teach you now. Look out for yourselves!"_

Well, Jack wouldn't fight his daughter until they were a bloody mess, but he was protective of her. He's protective of everybody, actually – he can be merciless to an enemy, but I've never met a man who fought so fiercely to avoid "acceptable losses" as Jack does. He gives so much for others, never asking anything in return. He really is kind of like Kotick in that way – the only thing he wants of anyone is a bit of cooperation, so that he _can_ save people.

I close the book and look back at the T.V. I miss Jack so much, and apparently even reading my favorite book makes me think of him. I close my eyes when someone knocks on the door.

"Yo, _pizzzzzzza_ delivery," a voice on the other side calls.

Suddenly alert, I quietly pull open the drawer in the nightstand and take out my gun. The guy knocks again as I walk toward the door. I look in the peephole, and sure enough, it's just a guy with a Pizza Hut visor and a red shirt with a little plastic nametag. I'm not sure what or who I expected, but I tuck the gun into my jeans at the small of my back and open the door.

"Hey," the guy says, beaming. "Wasn't sure I had the right room number for a minute there. Renee Walker, small thin crust, mushrooms and sardines?"

I nod. "That's me."

"That'll be $10.95."

I fish into my pocket for a twenty. He makes my change, hands over my pizza, and says, "Have an absolutely pizzariffic night!"

"…Thank you?" I say, but he's already speed walking down the hall to the elevators. I close the door and lean against it for a moment. "Pizzarific?" I burst into laughter, wiping my eyes as I make my way to the desk. Somehow, it seems amazing that in a world where people are abducted to further the cause of mass terrorists, and people are killed trying to stop those terrorists, there can be room for such an absurd and amusing word as "pizzarific."

* * *

Jack calls at about six forty this morning, the morning of my third day in Los Angeles without Jack. Sunlight streams in under the curtains in threaded ribbons. I roll over and sit up, my feet bare on the thin hotel carpet.

"_Renee? Turn on the news."_

"Okay, Jack."

I walk over to the T.V. and switch it on, and channel-surf until I find "BREAKING NEWS" on Channel 10. "Just under an hour ago, the world watched on in astonishment as proof of a government conspiracy flooded the internet. The video clip I'm about to show you is of a mole within Counter Terrorist Unit, or CTU New York, conspiring with a Russian agent to undermine the peace treaty we saw signed just a couple of weeks ago. President Taylor has already announced her intent to resign from the presidency, in what we believe is an attempt to avoid impeachment."

There was never any doubt in my mind that he'd do it, so I skip over that fact and go straight to: "You're coming back now?"

"_I'm in the airport as we speak."_

"I've missed you."

"_I've missed you, too. I can't wait to be home."_

"Did Walsh give you trouble?" I ask.

"_Some. I handled her."_ I can practically hear the smirk, and can't help but think it's really sexy. Not the manhandling part, but the incredible confidence and prowess with which he conducts himself.

"Give me a call when you land. I'll meet you at the airport, and maybe…" I hesitate. "…when we get back to the hotel, you can 'handle' _me_ instead…" I finish in a murmur. I feel my cheeks redden, and I know there's no way I could've said that to his face, but the thousands of miles between us seem to have made me bolder.

"…_I'd like that,"_ he replies, voice deeper and raspier than usual.

"I'm glad," I say. "…Call me when you land."

"_I will."_

* * *

The phone rings. It's midmorning, about 9:45 a.m., just a few hours after Jack called me with the good news. I roll over to answer it, making sure not to bend _Call of the Wild_ beneath me. Hearing the phone ring seems to put a smile on my face lately. Before I came to California, I heard the phone ring for me maybe…three times?...since I lost my position at the FBI. The first time was my employer telling me I'd be fired if I was late again. The second time had been Jack. The third time had been my employer to tell me I was fired. "Hello?"

"_Renee?"_ Stephen says.

"Yes?"

"_Listen, I didn't want to bother you or worry you, but Teri's teacher just called me. She said Teri's too sick to be at preschool with the other kids. I can't get a-hold of Kim – her phone's probably dead again – and I can't leave work. I've tried everything to get my boss to let me go, but there's this crisis going on and…"_ The man huffs angrily. _"Anyway, would you mind picking her up and staying with her? I wouldn't normally impose, but with Jack in New York thinking there might be someone willing to hurt us…"_

"Absolutely," I say automatically. Some part of me should be concerned with the dead cell phone of Kim's, but the child comes first. "Where's the preschool?"

He dictates the address to me and says he'll call the school to let them know a friend of the family will be picking Teri up. "All right," I say. "I'll be there as soon as the cab can take me there."

"_Thank you so much, Renee. _Really_."_

"No problem."

I stuff my key card in my pocket and my gun into my jeans, covering it with a shirt and sweater. I don't really expect to find myself in a firefight in a preschool around a dozen four year olds, but I'd rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. As a last-minute thought, I grab The Jungle Books as I head out the door. I remember…I remember liking it when my mother read to me when I was sick, and I know Teri at least likes Rikki Tikki Tavi, so…

I go out into the sunshine and blink. I guess I didn't need the sweater after all, but I don't want to mess with taking it off. The last thing I need is for the gun to fall out and cause mass panic on a crowded sidewalk. I wave a cab over and get in, reading off the directions to the driver.

"That's St. Mary's Preschool," he comments. "You got a kid?"

Well, I'm getting one. "Yeah," I murmur, lying for convenience's sake. If he doesn't buy that I'm picking up a friend's daughter, he could cause problems for me.

"I got a couple myself," he says. "Little rugrats, but I love 'em. Jenny's nine and Oliver's six. How old is yours? Five?"

"Four."

"Hey, wanna hear 'bout the time we took Ollie and Jen to their first swim lesson? It was a hoot!"

I smile. "Sure."

* * *

I didn't have any problem picking Teri up from the preschool. The ladies in the front took me back to the classroom, where Teri slept miserably on a nappy-pad in the corner, isolated from the other kids. She whimpered when I picked her up, but otherwise stayed asleep.

I slid into the cab with her, and the driver – whose name I learned to be John – clucked his tongue when he saw her. "Sick?" he asked.

I nod, buckling her in beside me, but letting her lie as best she could around the seatbelt. I stroke her blond hair, and then put a kiss to it, which was soft and smelled very faintly of baby shampoo.

"Poor thing. Stomach flu?"

"Something like that." I feel her forehead. "She doesn't feel like she's got a fever, but the teacher said she threw up a couple of times."

"Ahh, put her on the couch, give her some medicine and a 7-Up, and she'll be good as new by morning. Little kids can get real sick but they bounce back quickly. Faster than us old folk, anyway," he laughs. "Anyway, where'm I headed?"

I give him Kim's address. "I was visiting a friend at the hotel when the preschool called," I explain. I'm sad that Teri's sick, but I'm kind of glad she isn't awake to contradict the story I've been feeding the friendly driver.

"Ahh. Well, I'll get you and the little one home in no time."

* * *

He pulls up to the curb in front of Kim's sunny house, and I bundle Teri back into my arms. "Hope the little sweetie pie feels better soon," John said when I passed him the money I owe him.

"Thanks," I say. "Have a good one."

"You too, lady. You, too."

I nod goodbye, instead of wave – my arms are too full of Teri to do that – and walk up to the front porch. I don't have a key, so I lay Teri on the porch swing and fumble with picking the lock. Just as I'm getting the door open, I hear a little voice mumble, "Mommy?"

The girl's sick little voice makes my heart ache. "It's Renee, angel," I say. "Your mommy's not here yet, but we're going to see her soon."

"I don't feel so good…"

I pick her up and cradle her against my chest. "I know, sweetheart. Let's get you inside, okay?"

She moans through a pouty mouth. I nudge the door closed with my hip and wander down the hall to find her bedroom. I glance into the first door on the right and find a room all in pink, and know I've found it. I sit her up on the bed and rub her little arms. "Teri, angel?" I say.

"Mmm?"

"Can you get out of your school clothes and into your jammies for me? Hold on, I'll find them." I go to the tiny, flower-detailed dresser and look through drawers. "Do you want the purple unicorns or the Winnie the Pooh jammies?" I ask.

"Pooh…"

I take the matching top and shorts and put them on the bed beside her. "Go ahead and put these on, okay?" I say. "Can you do that for me, angel?" She nods, rubbing her eyes unhappily. "While you change, I'm going to call your daddy, okay?"

At the word "daddy," she starts to whimper. "I want my daddy," she cries.

I swallow back. The slightest tears form behind my eyes. I know all too well how that feels… "I know, angel. Your daddy's going to come home as soon as he can. I'm going to come back in when the call is finished, okay?"

She nods, and I leave the room and wander into the kitchen, remembering a list of emergency numbers I'd noticed on the refrigerator two nights ago. I find Stephen's, and dial.

"_Stephen McAllen,"_ he answers.

"Stephen, it's Renee. I've got Teri here at your house."

His businesslike tone immediately shifts the minute he hears his daughter's name. _"How's she feeling?" _

"She doesn't look too great. She doesn't have a fever, but she looks miserable and the preschool teacher said she threw up twice. She's changing into some pajamas now, and I'm going to pour her a cup of water. Is there anything else I should give her?"

"_There's a bottle of medicine Kim gives her when her tummy's upset. It's in a bottle marked 'Teri' in black marker. Go into our bedroom. It should be in the medicine cabinet. Give her a teaspoon of that."_

"Okay. If she's hungry, are crackers okay?"

"_Crackers are perfect. There's some saline crackers in the cabinet above the refrigerator. Thanks again, Renee, so much. I'm still trying to get my boss to let me go."_

"I've got everything handled here," I say. Handled. My mind flashes back to earlier that morning, to the decidedly "X" rated definition of that word. Wow. Not appropriate. Mind out of gutter, Walker. "Try not to worry too much," I say. "I'm sure Teri will be fine. She doesn't have a fever, and that's a good sign. Lots of water and rest sound like the key to getting her back to her giggling self."

"_Okay,"_ Stephen says, breathing deeply. _"I'll be back as soon as I can. Bye."_

"Bye."

* * *

I tucked the newly-pajama'd Teri into bed, after spooning her a teaspoonful of Kim's magic medicine. "Where's my mommy?" Teri says. Her pretty blond hair is fanned out on the pillow, and she looks like she's right out of a storybook. Well, if she's the adorable little princess, maybe I'm supposed to be the brave knight that fights away the bad stuff.

"I don't know, princess." I squash a frown that wanted to form. I need to check up on that.

"Will you read me a story? Mommy reads me a story when I'm sick."

Just like mine did. I smile at her. "Okay. What story would you like?"

"Bernstein Bears."

I go over to the little bookshelf and kneel down, finding one floppy Bernstein Bears book. I take _Bernstein Bears go on a Picnic_ over to the side of her bed and side down, and start to read. After a few minutes, Teri's eyes flutter shut and she's fast asleep. I put the book down and carefully get up to tiptoe out. I look back before pulling the door mostly-shut behind me – good. I didn't wake her.

I go into the kitchen. She's not awake now, obviously, but when she does wake up, she'll need to drink some water, whether she wants to or not. I smile again. My mother had been downright Napoleonic about hydration. I pull open the cabinets, looking for the glasses. Ah, there they are. I reach up for a plastic one. It's tall, with a built-in straw winding its way around the outside of the cup. A tiny Winnie the Pooh figurine hugs the middle, and, remembering Teri's Winnie pajamas, I think she'll like this one.

I'm about to go to the sink to fill it with water when something suddenly grabs me from behind. I gasp, and a heavy cloth is pressed hard against my mouth and nose. Something foreign travels into me…chloroform or something. My whole world…goes dark.

* * *

Writer's Note: =O !


	14. Chapter 14

Writer's Note: Since I actually wrote chapter 15 before I wrote chapter...something like chapter 10 or 11...I'm posting it right along with chapter 14. So many updates in so few days! I'm such a bad writer, ignoring my original fiction this way. o.o Oh well. Once I get my fandom fix satisfied, I'll probably go back to normal. xD Meanwhile, the story must go on...!

* * *

The first thing I'm aware of is the jolting. My shoulder is being jolted back and forth, as if being…shaken. Shaken. That's it. Then I hear the voices. They sound far away and dreamlike – or am I just dreaming?

"Renee!"

That last one did it. I jerk awake, gasping, and look up. Stephen straightens – I guess it was him bent over me, shaking me – and he's standing next to Jack. "Jack?" I whisper hoarsely. Jack's not supposed to be here for hours. Wait…oh god. The memory floods me, and nothing makes sense anymore. I look around, and it's the sight of a comfortable living room that greets me, and not that of a dark warehouse or closet, or a thousand other places abductors should have taken me. Why am I still here, in Kim's house? "What's…what's going on?" I ask, rubbing my forehead. My stomach twists nauseatingly. Jesus, what did they _use_ on me?

"Renee, where's Teri?"

I blink at him. "What?" Teri? Oh…shit. Dread rises in my stomach like bile.

"Think, Renee," Jack presses. "Were you playing hide and seek? What?"

"Hide and seek? No, Jack, she was asleep in bed. She's sick." Oh god. My worst fears are multiplying themselves. There was an attempt on Jack's family, and I didn't stop it, and little Teri, the most gentle and innocent of all of us, is missing.

"She has to be somewhere," Stephen says. "I'm going to check Carol's – maybe she went over to play with their daughter."

"You do that. This is getting us nowhere," Jack says. He pulls me up, off the couch and toward the door. "Go back to the hotel, Renee."

"But Jack, you need to hear –"

"Go back!"

"Jack, I can help –"

My words commit suicide in my mouth when he flashes me the most withering look I've ever received. "Haven't you done enough?"

* * *

I'm back at the hotel, pacing. God knows I should have made them listen, should have insisted upon it, but there's no reasoning with Jack when he's in this state. When he comes back to the room, he'll probably be calmer. At least, enough for me to tell him what happened.

The door swings open and I look up from my pacing. Jack strides into the room, his face stony as he shrugs off his jacket. "You didn't find her," I say quietly.

"No, we haven't. But we will." He levels a stare at me. "You know, it isn't that uncommon. Parents do it all the time – they look away for half a second and the kid's gone."

"She was asleep, Jack. I just went into the kitchen to pour her some water!"

"I believe you. But Renee…" He shakes his head. "We'll find her." He sighs. "I just… I hate to think of her. Alone and afraid, in the cold night."

"She's probably afraid, all right, but she's not alone in the cold night," I say. "Someone _has_ her, Jack."

"No one has her, Renee. She ran off. She's a kid. It happens."

"No, these things don't _just_ happen. Especially not to us."

"Shut up, Renee."

"Think about it, Jack! Teri was sick this afternoon. Sick and tired and upset! She wouldn't have run off!"

"Renee, you're obviously embarrassed about falling asleep on her, but stop making up stories."

I stare at Jack, and my jaw drops open slightly. Making up stories? Since when the hell do I make up stories? "Jack, I'm not making this up! Somebody grabbed me from behind while I was at the kitchen counter and put something over my mouth – some sort of chloroform."

Something in Jack's eye sparks and I flinch as I watch his temper break. He lunges at me and grabs my neck, slamming me against a wall. I gasp. His fingers press into my neck painfully. "Then explain why there's no chloroform on your breath," he hisses. "Explain why you were sleeping peacefully on the couch when we found you, instead of passed out on the floor!"

"I…don't…know…" I choke out. He releases me, and my knees barely catch me. I lean back against the wall, coughing. I swallow against the soreness in my throat, and I say, "Think about it. You just exposed that the Russians supported the terrorist acts at the highest level of their government. Is it really that hard to believe that someone might be pissed off at you?"

"Teri is just a little girl. Besides, no one would dare hurt my family. Everyone knows I'll rip apart anyone that does. Keeping you here was just convenient."

I try to ignore the sting that last bit gives me. "Jack, terrorists don't care that she's just a little girl!" I say, and I want to sob at the truth of it. "They don't play by the rules of law or decency. You of all people should know that." Again, I see that flash in his eyes, and his fist flies too quickly for me to duck. He catches me high on the cheekbone. The force of it is enough to knock me to the floor. I stay there, braced on one arm, looking up at him. He stands before me in a kind of furious excellence, every muscle and sinew taut and rippling. If the situation weren't so distressing, I would find him so hot right now. As it is, the sweetest little girl I've ever met has been kidnapped, and Jack has inflicted more pain on me than he ever has – excepting, perhaps, the time he had to shoot me, in order to fake my execution. And there's nothing attractive about being smacked around. My gut twitches as I remember the punches, slaps, and pinches Vladimir had regularly doled out, with increasing violence and frequency.

"You bitch," he breathes.

"Jack!" I say, my eyes widening. I look down and push myself to my feet, and then meet his eyes.

"Get out."

Taken aback, I whisper, "What?"

"Get out of my room."

"But Jack, what about Teri?" Whatever happens between me and Jack, even if it breaks me, I still need to know that little girl will be all right.

"We'll find her."

"I can't believe this," I say. "Who are you? I've _never_ known Jack Bauer to ignore evidence."

"Evidence? What evidence? The only evidence I have is finally finding you at Kim's house, asleep on her couch, with my granddaughter missing. There was no sign of forced entry, nothing broken, or missing – except Teri. No, what I can't believe is that you're too cowardly to admit when you made a mistake."

My only mistake was not watching my back. I have to remember that, remember it and know it as surely as Jack made me believe that I'd done nothing wrong in stabbing Vladimir to death…because I think the feeling of being responsible for Teri's abduction could kill me inside. "Jack, I'm telling you the truth," I say. I hate how pleading I sound.

He just stares at me. "Get out," he repeats.

"Jack –"

"_Get out!_"

The fury in those words made me flinch, but his next words knocked the breath from my lungs:

"I can't believe I ever loved you."

* * *

"_I can't believe I ever loved you."_

"_I can't believe I ever loved you."_

The words ring in my mind, endlessly. I walk numbly from the room, the hotel, the street… I'm frozen both from the cold and from the realization that everything I believed was a lie. I watch the sun set behind towering buildings, and I think about how I feel. That sounds conceited, but in a way, I'm kind of a miracle right now. I'm walking and functioning, when inside, my entire being feels devastated. Devastated by Hurricane Bauer. Hurricane Bauer. That would be funny if I could comprehend past the pain.

I'm at least two blocks away from the hotel before I grab the side of a building, sinking to my knees into heavy, body-shaking sobs I never knew I was capable of sobbing.


	15. Chapter 15

I have never felt pain like this before. Every part of me is prickling, like my every limb fell asleep, and yet I feel nothing. Both numbness and the painful aftermath of numbness all at once. The palms of my hands shake as I cross my arms, hugging myself, just trying not to crumble.

I don't know how far I walk or where. I know that people are staring, but they've all blurred and all I can see are the shoes on my feet, feet that are somehow, in some way, still moving, though for the life of me I can't figure out who gave the order for them to move, because it seems like I'm too lost in myself to control basic motor functions.

I stop, and look up and around me. I'm at a street corner, next to a stoplight-controlled intersection. Nothing is familiar, and every structure, every lamppost, every passerby and leashed dog seems to mock me. "What made you think you could ever be happy?" they seem to say. I'd viewed Los Angeles as some sort of haven – a new place to start a new life with a man I love. "What made you think this city would be kind to you?" they press further.

I don't know.

I just don't know.

* * *

I consider a gun, but I don't have one.

I consider breaking a shop window and using a glass shard, but that would leave the owners with a hefty replacement expense.

I consider stepping into traffic, but that would cause endless guilt in an innocent driver.

And then I realize that every possible method comes with an unacceptable "but" – that I can't kill myself. I look down at my arms, where long, nasty red scars still linger. The sight makes me nauseous.

I don't know if I should cry from relief that I'm not suicidal – or if I should cry _because_ I'm not suicidal, and therefore forced to endure the pain.

* * *

I sit on a step leading to a random place – an apartment, maybe, or a business housed in an old-style house. l grasp the rail, too cold and too soul-weary to even try anymore.. I hug my arms around myself and remember bitterly the time I asked Jack, "Isn't southern Cal supposed to be hot?" I wish I'd had the foresight to bring the damn sweater.

I feel like someone from a bad soap opera – the broken and lonely woman, sitting on a staircase at night, the busy city at a dull murmur as she's haloed by the porch-light. Which, annoyingly enough, is an accurate description of exactly what and where I am.

Just when I'm thinking about how much I abhor clichés, a woman sits down next to me. "You look like shit, honey," she says.

I glance around – there's no one else, so it's me she's talking to, then. I eye her warily. It's hard to tell in the dark, in the faded light the porch-light provides, but I think she's blonde. Her facial features look slim, her eyes large and lips full. She's smiling at me, but neither in a friendly way, nor a hostile way. I'm not really sure what to think of her. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"Want a cig?"

A day ago, I would have protested emphatically. But…I've lost everything. Jack, my home, my books… All I've got is a beating heart and the clothes on my back. What's one more slip into nothingness? At least addiction won't leave me lonely; it'll stick by my side like the best friend-enemy I'll ever have, whether I want to know it or not. "Yeah, thanks." I take the offered cigarette and put it in my mouth. The woman lights me, and I start to puff – coughing at first, but quickly settling into the familiar rhythm. Well, sanity, wave goodbye to the effort and pain of that damn smoke-free course.

I'd forgotten how light and smooth the smoke is, how well it numbs my head. I took it up in Russia – not to maintain my cover or anything, but to cope with Vladimir Laitanan, that rapist son of a bitch. Although, in retrospect, I'm sure the smoking helped my "bad girl Zadan" image, too…

"You know, _personally_," the woman saying, shaking aside sleek blonde hair, "_I_ don't think he was very nice, hurting you like that." She gestures at me, and I wonder which spots show – is it my face, my neck, my arms?

"I don't blame him," I say quietly. Much.

"Shitty day, huh?"

"His granddaughter was kidnapped on my watch." Somehow, saying the words makes it all the more painful, and all the harder to comprehend. I play over what happened again, frustrated by my lack of knowledge. I inhale deeply and watch the smoke, light against the blanket of darkness, float away and dissipate.

"And I'm sure you just sat back and waved your hand, saying, 'Go ahead, take her; we don't want her,'" the woman says, gesturing vehemently.

"Well, no," I say.

"Then I'm sure you left her alone in the house or yard while you went to get your nails done, right?" the woman tried.

"No! I was fixing her a glass of water when someone attacked me from behind. I never heard them come in the house…I never saw them. They used some sort of chloroform to knock me out…"

The woman breathes out a trail of smoke and crushes her cigarette against the concrete step. "Not chloroform, but you're close," she says.

I look at her, blinking once. "How would you know that?" I ask with hollow anger.

"I was there, babe. I'm one of the kidnappers."

Shock and horror form a stony mass in my belly as she continues onward, saying, "Now, your first instinct is gonna be to call your boyfriend, to let him know about all of this. But think about it, for just a second – he's already broken your heart and roughed you up, and he still thinks you've got something to do with the kidnapping. You tip him off and you'll give him irrefutable proof that you helped kidnap his granddaughter. He doesn't take too kindly to that sort of thing, does he?"

"No…"

"Listen, babe," the woman says. "I've got a chance for you to get back at the bastard. He's done shit to both of us, and he needs to pay for that."

"What are you suggesting?"

A small, sadistic smile crosses the woman's face, made more sinister by the dim light. "I'm suggesting you join us. You could be a real asset. Besides, you can't tell me you don't want to hurt him for what he's done to you."

"I…I do…" I say slowly, as if digesting this miraculous idea.

"Then are you in?"

I feel the Zadan mask hardening on my face and in my mind, in my very core. I nod. "I'm in," I say roughly.

* * *

The woman starts prattling on about the ways we could hurt Jack – what kinds of traps we could set for him. I stand and say, "Whoa, hold on." The woman stops mid-sentence, looking at me with a rather shocked expression. I continue, "I'm not doing anything until I see the kid."

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. "Why?"

I roll my eyes and laugh. "Because I'm about to take on the most sadistic son of a bitch known to man, and I want to know that my only leverage isn't hacked to pieces, that's why. No video feed, no phone call – I see the kid live and in person, and then I do whatever you want. That's the deal." I drag in a breath of cig and blow it out, raising an eyebrow with just a hint of Zadan smile.

She considers me, and then smirks as she gets to her feet. "All right. But we gotta hit up a gas station or something. The kid's hungry and the whining is pissing Natty off. And when Natty gets pissed off, Ted gets busy – and he enjoys himself when there's little kids on the job, if you know what I mean."

The Zadan in me doesn't blink – she smirks. "Better not let him have any fun," I say, though. "I want my leverage untouched. Bauer won't hesitate to slaughter him or anyone associated with him if he hurts his granddaughter, and I'm not about to be sushi – especially by the likes of _him_."

She laughs. "Don't worry. Little Lottie Leverage isn't gonna be hurt – yet. Unless her granddaddy doesn't play nice."

"Didn't you say something about food?"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, my car's around the corner." As we walk, she looks me over. "I'm Anita," she says.

I nod curtly. When she frowns, I flash her a smile. "I'm glad to be working with you, Anita," I say in a husky voice.

I guess I appeased her, because her expression softens, and becomes proud – smug. "It's this one," she says, stopping beside a small black car. Light from the lamppost bounces off its shiny surface, and the relative quiet is broken by the sound of her smashing the back window.

"I thought this was your car, Nita," I say as she gets in on the driver's side and unlocks the car.

She flashes me a seductive grin, posing at the wheel as I slide into the passenger-side seat. "Is now," she said, practically purring at the nickname. "Is that a problem?"

"Not for me."

* * *

Anita chooses a small gas station on the side of the highway leading out of Los Angeles. "This is perfect," she says to me. "Out of the way, not many people." I spot a highway patrol car by the pump, but I don't say anything. If she notices, she's not worried. She reaches over and pulls a gun out of the glove box. She takes the safety off with a mechanical clack.

"Got another?" I ask. She raises an eyebrow at me. "I'll watch your back." I smile sweetly with a tilt of my head.

Works like a charm. She returns my smile and murmurs, "Check the armrest." I do, and palm the glock buried in there. "Let's go," she says, shoving the gun in her belt by her hip. I follow suit.

We enter the gas station's tiny store, and split up within. A big-rig driver follows us in, stopping to browse at magazines. I go down an aisle shelving chips and jerky and other general junk food.

"What do you think the kid'll like? Think Twinkie's and Doritos will work?"

I wince and blink, something strange flashing over me…something I recognize as…myself. Every internal aspect of Renee Walker is saying, "Not the junk food, not the junk food!" and I find myself bewildered by the change. Then I blink again, and curse myself for my unrealistic intentions. There isn't going to be a healthy snack here, and even if there was, I can't let myself show concern for the kid. I take Walker and shove her down, lock her deep in a box. She hates that. I say, "You could do Twinkie's, but chocolate doughnuts will shut her up quicker."

I hear Anita chuckle. "That's why I wanted you along for the ride, Walker." I round the corner and come face-to-face with her. She's smirking, half-sadistically, half-seductively. "Well, that's part of the reason, anyway," she murmurs, almost nose-to-nose with me.

It takes some effort to smile back. She laughs and shakes her head, loops her arm with mine. "Don't worry," she says. "It's weird batting for the other team for the first time, but once you do…" She looks up and down me. "…you never go back."

"I'll take your word for it," I say.

"Come on. Natty's waiting."

We head toward the door, and the inevitable shouts follow. "Stop! You haven't paid for those! Stop! Thieves!"

"Freeze!"

I turn on my heel just as the patrolman aims his weapon, pulling my own gun out. "You don't want me to pull the trigger," I say.

"Drop the weapon!"

Anita, who had pulled her gun out mere seconds after I did, leveled it at the manager's chest. A shot rang out, and the man fell, shouting, to the floor. The patrolman looks quickly between the injured man and us, his criminals. Anita says, "We're leaving now. You might want to make sure he lives."

She turns to leave, and the patrolman shouts again. I see his finger pressing the trigger, and aim my gun at his leg and shoot. He yelps in pain, dropping to the floor. I back up and run for the car, hearing him shout into his radio. But the car's unmarked, and as Anita screeches up to the door for me, I get in, and we're gone.

When we're sure we've evaded any law enforcement, she pulls over and parks the car, leaving the engine running. She's panting, and she looks over at me. I watch her for a moment, with increasing alarm. "That got you hot?" I say.

She chuckles throatily. "Oh yeah, babe." She leans over, brushing her nose against the skin of my cheek. "Want to try swinging the bat?" she says.

I smile and turn my head so our noses touch. "Keep your eyes on the prize, Nita," I murmur. "We'll have all the time in the world once we finish Bauer."

Disappointment flashes in her eyes, but it's quickly replaced by intrigue. "I like the way you think, Walker," she says, putting the car back into drive. I guess the only thing that turns her on more than a firefight is revenge.

Anita drives in a seemingly aimless manner for half an hour, and I stare at the nighttime City of Angels. I think about what she said, "I like the way you think, Walker." Walker. Not really. Not at all. I refuse to let myself slip back into Renee Walker's shoes. To do this, I have to breathe the essence of Zadan. I can't do otherwise and expect the same results.

Besides, Walker suffered more than any woman I've ever known. To be her is to embrace her pain, and I can't handle that right now.

…I'm not sure if I ever can.


	16. Chapter 16

Anita carries the chocolate doughnuts in one arm, and fishes the key to what looks like an old, abandoned warehouse. "Come on, Walker. Natty gets impatient easily." She slides in the key and opens the door, waving me inside.

"Does she let you call her Natty, or do you just call her that to piss her off?"

"Yes," the woman says, laughing. "This way."

I follow her, not really paying attention to where she takes me. I study the warehouse – its corners, its far heights, its beams, its shelves. I see no snipers, no guards, no men of any kind. "You running a tiny ship or did everyone just go AWOL?" I ask.

"Oh, we had more people, but…" She shrugs. "We had to kill most of them."

"Why's that?" The remaining man or men must be very well hidden…

"They didn't follow orders." She turns on the stair and tilts her head at me. "Why such the interest in the men, anyway?"

"I just want to make sure you didn't botch this from the start by killing off your people. We need people to keep an eye out for, oh, gee, Jack Bauer?" I say, raising my eyebrows at her.

She rolls her eyes and laughs, and turns around to continue up the stairs. "If you're so worried about that, then you can keep watch!"

"I will. Once I've seen the kid."

"Right. Well, Little Lottie Leverage is this way." We reach the top and turn right. "Natty, I've brought us a present!" she hollers. She opens a door to a small office.

"Is this a present I'm going to like?" says a woman with a decidedly Russian accent. The sound puts my nerves on fire, but I cool it.

"Yeah, babe. I'm brought Renee Walker to our side, just like I said I could." Anita flips on the lights and returns to me, rubbing her hand down my side.

A woman steps forward, with dark eyes and lush black hair. Her eyes are narrowed. "I see," she said.

"Walker, meet Natalia Pavel."

* * *

Pavel. Pavel. The name does more than just take my memory for a jog – it drags it by the end of the leash, down and around the corner at high speed.

"_Renee, I'd like you to meet Pavel. He does good work for us, no?" Vladimir said, laughing as he slapped the man on the back._

"_You know I don't work for you, old man," Pavel said. He smirked, but I could see the distaste in his eyes. We both hated Vlad. I would've bought the guy a drink for that. Well, I would've, but Vladimir would've beaten me for it later, once we left the fancy dinner party._

"_Yes, well, you take good care of me anyway. He's the one that took care of our little problem last week." Vladimir said. By "little problem," he meant the official that was raising red flags in the Russian government._

I blink the memory away. "Natalia Pavel. It's good to meet you," I say, trying to hide any understanding from my voice that could give me away.

"You look familiar," Natalia says, frowning. I didn't think it was possible for her to frown any deeper. I guess the first frown was just a natural expression for her. Yeah, I have no trouble believing this is Pavel's wife.

"Of course she looks familiar, Natty. You saw her picture in the file," Anita says. She looks at me.

"Hmmph," Natalia says. "I don't know. How do you know she's really on our side? She has reason to dislike us, too."

"Not as much of a reason as she has to hate Jack Bauer," Anita says. She goes to a desk and jumps to sit on it. "Besides, she shot a cop for me." She begins to swing her legs to and fro.

Natalia's next "hmm" sounds less condescending. "Well, then come here. I want you to call Bauer. Let him know in…no uncertain terms that we have his granddaughter. If he doesn't believe, I can have Ted at her, and put the phone on speaker."

Anita's expression falls slightly. "Oh, Natty, I forgot to mention…"

"Yes?"

"She forgot to mention that I don't do anything until I see the kid," I say.

Natalia's eyes narrow again. "Oh, really? Why is this?"

Her Russian accent continues to wash over me in waves of distaste. "She's my leverage against Bauer," I say. I look to Anita. "Do I really need to explain it again?" I ask. Ugh. I need a cigarette.

Anita jumps down and crosses to Natalia. "Natty, baby," she says, rubbing Natalia's arms. "You know Bauer's rap. He's…how did you put it, Walker? The most sadistic son of a bitch known to man. And she's right, Nat."

"Hmm. Very well. Come with me."

I follow Natalia Pavel out of the office. I want to put my hand on the gun I have tucked into my jeans, but Anita's right behind me, so I can't afford to look suspicious. Natalia leads me to an office directly across from the one we were in. She opens the door and holds it open for me. I walk inside. They enter behind me.

Little Teri sits, sniffling and coughing, on the chair. She looks up, and her eyes widen. "Renee?" she asks, in the most urgent, fearful little voice I've ever heard.

She moves as if to jump down from the chair, but I hold up my hand. "Stop," I command. "Stay there." Teri, unhappy about all of this, does as she's told, which is nothing short of a minor miracle, considering.

"Are you satisfied?"

My temper doesn't snap like Jack's. It slowly severs itself. "Yes," I say. And then I turn around, and empty two bullets into Natalia's chest.

* * *

Anita screams, and kneels down beside Natalia's side. She continues to scream as she holds Natalia's head between her own, looking into the reflection of her dead partner's eyes. In the background, Teri alternates between screams and whimpers.

"You bitch!" Anita shrieks at me.

"It does seem to be my day to be the bitch," I agree.

"I'll kill you!" She reaches into her pocket for her gun, and I level mine at her forehead. Without reservation, I pull the trigger, and kill Anita, too.

I stand there for a moment, looking down at the dead women. Were they secret lovers? Maybe. Probably. I don't know, and in honesty, I don't really care.

Teri's crying brings me back to earth, and tears start to form in my own eyes. I turn and start to walk to her, when I she shrieks, "Renee!" as she points at me.

I frown, and turn. She wasn't pointing at me, she was pointing behind me – and the man she was pointing at pulls the trigger on the gun he, in turn, has pointed straight at me. I dodge to the left, but not in time to avoid the instantly painful, burning impact of the bullet in my chest, just below my right shoulder.

* * *

I fall to the ground, blood roaring in my ears. I want to indulge the pain – to curl in a ball and weep, but I look up through the tears, and know that this man – who could be the disgusting, horrible Ted – is going to finish the job. So I take the gun, which is still in my right hand, and lift it. The pain triples from that movement alone, and I squeeze the trigger with a yell.

The difference between me and Ted is, I've had years of gun use. My aim does not falter, and he falls dead with my bullet in his head.

My shoulder burns and pulses. I pant from it, and stare at the doorway, waiting for someone else to show up, with a bigger weapon, a bigger army. After a moment, no one does, and I lay back, my head to the cold tile.

Eventually, the behind me stops. "Renee?" Teri whimpers from the chair.

It takes me a few seconds to find my voice. "I'm still here, honey," I say.

"I'm scared, Renee."

Her words shatter the box in which I hid myself, and all the emotional pain floats back to tango with the physical pain. "I know, Teri," I say. I look over, and manage a shaky smile. "Come here, sweetheart."

She climbs down from the chair and walks over to me, but she's not looking at me. I can't imagine the horror running through her mind at the sight before her, and I can't believe I was the one to cause this memory. I tug on her sleeve with my left hand. "Don't look, sweetie," I say. She sits and curls into my arm, burying her face in my good shoulder. "Sssh, sssh," I repeat, over and over. "You're a brave little girl, Teri. So brave. Sssh. That's it. It's over."

I turn my head to the right and try to look down at my shoulder. There's so much blood…crap. I don't know if I'll be alive long enough to calm her down. "Sweetie? I need you to nod if you can understand me. Can you do that?"

Teri hesitates, and then she nods.

"I need you to go back to the chair and close your eyes, okay? Don't look at anything else. Just close your eyes. Will you do that for me?"

Again, she nods. "Good." I nudge her away, and she walks, shaking, back to the chair to sit down. "Are your eyes closed, angel?" I call.

"Yes." I look, and sure enough, little Teri's eyes are squeezed shut.

"Okay. Good job, angel. You're perfect. Now, I want you to imagine Magic Mountain, okay? The Magic Place. You're on the merry go round. Are you on the merry go round, Teri?" I start to sit up, gasping, trying to keep my pain silent.

"Uh-huh."

"You're on the best horse in the world," I say through gritted teeth. I start to crawl toward the dead women. "What does your horse look like? What color is it?"

"It's…it's pink. And gold."

A pained laugh escapes me. "Pink and gold. That's pretty. You just keep imagining that horse, okay? And…and your grandpa! He's in the crowd, waving. Wave back, Teri."

I look back, just once, to see if she's still buying this fantasy I've put her in. She's smiling uneasily, but waving, and more importantly, she's still got her eyes closed. Good. I don't want her to watch me rummaging through the pockets of dead people.

But even more importantly, I don't want to die near the dead people and leave her here alone. So I squeeze my shoulder, trying to block the pain and the bleeding, and I almost swoon. At least I'm on the floor, already… When that particularly nasty wave passes, I crawl the remaining distance on my elbow and knees.

I let go of my shoulder, and stare at my hand for a moment. It's drenched, just drenched in blood. This is very, very bad. I fish into the pocket of the first body – Natalia's – and to my incredible relief, there's a phone. "Sweetie, you keep imagining the Magic Place. I'm going to call someone to help us." I open it and my fingers tremble, but I manage to dial 9-1-1.

"_9-1-1, what's your emergency?"_

"I've been shot," I whisper hoarsely. "I've lost a lot of blood."

"_What's your location?"_

"I'm in an abandoned warehouse on East Elm Street, in Los Angeles."

"_I'm dispatching an ambulance now. Can you tell me your name?"_

"Renee…" I shudder. "Renee Walker." It seems so strange to be claiming my name again, even after abandoning it for so short a time.

"_Renee, listen to me carefully. I want you to apply pressure to your wound. I know it's going to hurt, but you need to stunt the bleeding."_

I don't have the energy to tell her I know that. "Okay." I put the phone on speaker and put it down. There's no stopping the yelp this time as I press onto the wound.

"Renee?" Teri screams. I curse myself as she rushes over, her fantasy gone. Her salty tears drop onto my shoulder. "Renee, please don't die!" she begs me.

"_Renee, who is that with you?"_ the 9-1-1 dispatcher asks.

"Her name is Teri. She's my boyfriend's granddaughter. I was trying to stop her kidnappers when they shot me." I suppose that's true enough. No need to add that I went undercover to save her, and to kill them for doing it.

"_Where are the kidnappers now?"_

"Dead." I look over at Teri. "Don't look at them, angel. C'mere. I can't hold you, because I need to hold my shoulder or I'll die, but you can hold onto me, okay? Please do that for me, angel." Slowly, Teri hugs onto my left shoulder, crying into it.

"_Renee, the ambulance should be there very soon. Can you hear the sirens? They're right on your street, now."_

I listen. "Yes, I can hear them."

"_Very good. They'll be at the door soon. Can you tell me how to find you from there?"_

"Go straight until you find the stairs. I'm in the office to the left from the top of the stairs."

_"Thank you. Medics, do you copy? Straight to the stairs, up, then to the office on the left."_

I can't hear the medics' reply, but I do hear movement in the warehouse below. Relief courses through me. "I hear them." I bite down on the impulse to shout, "I'm in here!" and moments later, medics burst into the room with a stretcher. The first one almost trips over the dead bodies, and he looks shocked. Young, too. God. He's probably the greenest medic in the county, and it had to be him coming here to help me. Great. Now I've corrupted the minds of two innocents.

But this green medic steels himself with a hard expression and comes over to me with his partner. "We're going to get you out of here," he says. "Hand me the gauze pad." The partner hands over a thick pad of gauze, and the green guy pries my hand away from my shoulder. He presses the gauze down on it.

"Hi, honey, what's your name?" the partner asks, gently touching Teri's shoulder.

"Teri…" she whispers.

"Teri. Hi. I'm Dan. I need you to let go of your friend, okay? I'm a doctor, and I need to help her."

She looks up at me, her fearful little eyes watery. "It's okay, Teri," I say, hoping I sound reassuring. "Do what he asks."

Teri lets go, and the medics lift me onto the stretcher. They lift it up, not even grunting from the effort, and head for the door. "Follow us, Teri, okay?" the partner says, looking back at her.

"Eyes front, Dan," says the green guy. "There're stairs."

"Right."

The medics carry me down, and little Teri trails behind. "We're gonna start an I.V. when we get to the truck," the green guy says. "Renee, are you allergic to anything?"

"No…noth..." I whisper. I'm not sure what's happening. The pain feels farther away, somehow.

"Renee, can you hear me? Shit, we're losing her."

Losing me?

"Renee!"

Oh…

* * *

Writer's Note: This may be the last update for the week. I know, I'm evil for the cliffhanger, but hey - I've got finals, and then I'm graduating. :) And then at some point after I'm done screaming my joy, I will update. This is not the end of _Anywhere_, I promise. We still have a ways to go...


	17. Chapter 17

Writer' Note: This chapter makes a small reference to The Things We Feel. Might want to read that if you get confused. ;) Although, not understanding the reference will in no way hinder the rest of the chapter or story for you.

* * *

Beeping slowly rouses me. My world comes into view in the shape of a white room, obscured by the end of my bed, and a large machine to my right. It takes me a moment to register everything, and when I finally understand where I am. Not again…I groan. I couldn't have tried to kill myself – not again, not after the last time. I lift my arm. My shoulder feels numb, and my wrist is marred by I.V. lines. I look past the tubes and the sight of my scarred wrist brings tears of relief to my eyes. The red scars are like neon signs against my pale skin, but they aren't reopened. I didn't try to kill myself.

Then, the whole day comes flooding back to me. Picking up Teri. Being attacked from behind. Getting kicked out of the hotel room. Wandering for hours. Anita picking me up. Shooting a cop. Locating Teri. Shooting Anita and Natalia. …Being shot.

"I'm glad to see someone's awake."

The nurse is a petite woman, with hair about as red as mine used to be. She wears wiry glasses and holds a clipboard smartly against the crook of her elbow while she marches up to check the stats on the machine.

"How are you feeling, Renee?" she asks.

"L-like I've been shot," I croak.

"Hmm, no kidding. Let me get some ice chips for you, okay? I'll be right back."

The nurse clicks away in a whoosh, and for a minute I blink, wondering if I imagined her. But nope, she clicks back in moments later, carrying a Styrofoam cup. "Here ya are," she says, flashing a smile at me.

I close my right hand around the cup and use my left to spoon in a mouthful.

"You gave everyone quite a scare," the nurse says. "You almost died. But you're stable now, so everything's okay!" She nods emphatically.

I need coffee to be able to deal with her cheerfulness. "Mmm…" I murmur without commitment.

"You also have some people who've been trying to visit you for hours. One of them is another patient of this very hospital! Do you feel up to seeing anyone?"

Forget coffee. I need a cigarette. Wait…patient? "Who's the patient?" I ask, frowning.

"A woman named Kim McAllen."

Mc…oh. Stephen's last name. "Is she okay?" I ask.

"She has a couple of bumps and bruises, but she'll be right as rain sooner than you can say…" The woman shrugs playfully. "…rain!"

"Let me see her."

"Okay, then! I'll be right back."

Another nurse wheels Kim into the room a few minutes later, and my stomach drops. A couple of bumps and bruises? Her lip's busted and swollen, her eye and cheek black, her hand is bandaged, and god knows what the hospital gown is hiding. "Renee!" Kim says. "I'm so glad you're okay." Then she frowns at the nurse. "Could you take me closer so I'm not shouting? Thank you." Now right beside my bed, Kim leans forward, placing a hand on my arm. "Thank you so much for saving my daughter," she says tearfully. "And…I'm so sorry. I feel like this is all my fault!" She bursts into tears.

"Kim, how could it be your fault?" I ask. Honestly, the thought bewilders me. "And…what happened to you?"

"Yesterday morning, when I got to work, someone told me there was a package waiting for me in the counseling office. I had no idea what a package would be doing there, but I went anyway. Someone _drugged_ me and when I woke up, some Russian woman wanted to know where you were. I tried not to tell them but they…" She gestures to her bandaged arm. "They kept hurting me, and when I couldn't take it anymore I told them…" She shudders. "I told them my address."

"What?" I say.

"I thought the house would be empty!" Kim cries. "Stephen was supposed to be at work and Teri was supposed to be in preschool. I thought I was saving your life but I was only putting my daughter in danger!"

"You couldn't have known Teri was sick," I say. "It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault." Including mine…I have to remember that. "It's only Natalia Pavel's fault…and her people's."

"Pavel?" Kim sniffs and wipes her eyes. "That name sounds familiar. Like someone my dad mentioned."

"Jack?" The mention of him reminds me of how…harsh…he was.

"Yeah, uh, he's out in the waiting room with Teri and Stephen."

Teri's name jolts my mind. "Is Teri all right?" I ask.

"She's fine, thanks to you. A little sick and very upset, but alive." Pain flashes across Kim's face. "I…I escaped a few hours after they took me. All I could think about was making sure you were all right, that they didn't find the hotel name written down anywhere or something. And when I got home and found Dad and Stephen and realized my daughter was gone, I was so scared. I couldn't stop shaking. I couldn't stop crying. I…I couldn't be you. I couldn't save her."

What? And I was the brave soldier? "Kim, the only reason I was able to find Teri was because her kidnappers were stupid enough to think I'd ever – _ever_ hurt the people I care about. They…" I swallow. "One of them came to me after I left the hotel room last night. To recruit me against your father."

Kim frowns. "Why would you go against Dad, though?"

"…I'm not sure I'm the right person to tell you that."

Thankfully, the nurse interrupts us. "The doctor needs to see Renee now, Kim," my super-friendly nurse says.

"Oh, of course…" Kim gives me an odd look, but allows the other nurse to wheel her back out.

The doctor walks in and my nurse leaves, giving me a happy wave farewell. I'd kind of like to know what happy pill she's on, and if it could be prescribed for me, too…"Hello, Renee," the doctor says, flipping through the clipboard. "I'm Dr. Shaw. You've had a rough night, huh?"

"I guess."

"Well, I'm no psychiatrist, but I'm here to help if you want to talk." I like her already. Mellow, open, respectful. I could get used to a doctor like her. "Now, we were able to retrieve the bullet and stop the bleeding, but you have to take it easy for a while. _Easy_," the doctor reiterates gently. "Are you in any pain right now?"

"No, none."

"You will be later. I'll be prescribing some heavy painkillers as well as some antibiotics to ward off infection. The painkillers will make you sleepy, but they'll save you a lot of unnecessary pain." She pauses. "I heard about what you did for that little girl. You're a brave woman, Renee."

I'm beginning to think the whole world is bipolar. One second, I'm the bitch, the next, I'm the brave savior and protector. "Thank you," I say quietly.

Dr. Shaw's hazel eyes are on me softly. "Do you have anyone to stay with once you're released?"

I blink. "I don't know…"

"Well, you have a small but fierce army out there wanting to see you. I'm sure one of them will drag you home, whether you want them to or not. I want to keep you here for the next week. You were very lucky – the bullet missed the bone. It did hit the muscle tissue, but your recovery will be far less than what it would be if bone repair needed to happen. If all goes well, I hope to release you very soon." The doctor pauses, then grasps my good shoulder. "It was touch and go for a while, but you made it. Remember that." She glances down at my wrists for a moment, then smiles at me again.

"Dr. Shaw? Some policemen want to talk to Ms. Walker."

Dr. Shaw looks down at me. "Well," she says, pocketing her hand, "do you feel up to telling the police what happened?"

"Sure," I say. "Let them in."

* * *

The cops finally cease their questioning about twenty minutes later, and as they leave, a couple of familiar faces enter.

"Renee!"

Little Teri comes rushing in, with Stephen right behind her. She looks up the side of the hospital bed, and then looks back at her father. "Up!" she insists.

Stephen gives me a questioning look, and I nod. He comes over and picks her up so she can crawl against my side. She curls her tiny little arm around me, and I feel my heart melting. "I thought you were gonna die," she says.

"Ahh, it'll take more than a couple of bad guys to do me in," I joke, for her benefit. She giggles into my arm.

"Ricky said there's nothing worse than the boogie man, but those guys were worse than the boogie man, weren't they?"

The image of Anita's face, and Natalia's, appear in my mind's eye. "Yes, they were," I say.

"Are they going to hurt you anymore?"

"No, they're not going to hurt me anymore. Or _you_."

Teri yawns, and then coughs. "Thank you, Renee."

"You're very welcome, angel."

"You're the angel," Stephen says quietly. I give him a startled look. "You saved my baby girl. I won't ever be able to thank you enough for that."

I'm not sure how to handle the gratitude. I shrug one-sided, and say, "You don't have to."

He swallows. "I'm sorry for not listening to you."

I give him a knowing smile. "You couldn't have done anything differently."

"Yes, I could have. I could've insisted that we listen to you."

"What's done is done. We're all alive, Stephen." It's more than I could've asked for, and more than I dreamed I'd be given.

He nods, and then says, "Teri, let's let Renee get some rest, okay? And you need to rest, too. You're an ill little lady and you need your get-well sleep."

I give Teri one last squeeze, and her father picks her up. "Say goodbye, Teri."

"Goodbye, Renee."

The toddler is already falling asleep against her father's shoulder as he walks out.

I glance at the clock on the wall. It's 9:45. Then it must be Thursday morning. Wow. A couple of weeks in California and I've already gotten myself tangled into a catastrophe. I'm tired enough to sleep for another couple of weeks, though, and I'm glad the nurses left the solid gray curtains firmly shut. I could really use some sleep, just like little Teri.

I close my eyes, and as I start to drift off, I wonder about the one visitor I didn't receive…

* * *

An unfamiliar nurse carries in two vases of flowers, one dark purple, one sky blue. The sky blue vase contains bright yellow flowers, and the other, an arrangement of soft purple and pink azaleas. A card sits by the blue vase.

"Renee: I thought this room could use some color. I hope you like yellow! – Kim."

I don't, actually, but the gesture makes me smile. And the flowers aren't really bad, either. They're like sunshine. I just hope someone takes them away before they start to brown – the browning is why I don't like yellow flowers.

The azaleas, though, are perfect. I love azaleas, especially the pink ones. I know they're really girly, but…they're pretty. I touch one softly, wondering who left them. There's no card with them.

My mind turns to other mysteries. Like where Jack was. He was the only one that didn't come in to visit me this morning. And now visiting hours are nearly up. I frown. Which annoys me more – the fact that he's not here, or the fact that I miss him, despite the things he said?

"Renee?" Dr. Shaw says from the doorway. She walks in. "Your first full day is almost over. How're you feeling?"

I move my upper body experimentally, and shards of pain lance through my shoulder. "Oww…"

"Not so hot, then." She extracts a syringe and puts it in my I.V. "This'll stop the pain and help you sleep tonight, too."

"No, wait –"

The doctor pauses.

…Jack might still come. Unwilling or unable to say the words, I whisper, "Never mind."

She shrugs, and pushes the painkillers into the I.V. Moments later, a heady numbness fills me, and drags me to sleep.

* * *

"Well, well, well, good morning, sleeping beauty." Dr. Shaw walks in, looking fresh and bright. I won't let my opinion of her degrade just because she's obviously a morning person…

"Mmm…sorry…"

"No, don't apologize. The body always does its best healing when you're asleep. You slept a few hours longer than I'd anticipated, too. That's good."

I want to ask when I can leave, but I don't exactly have anywhere to go. Or a cent to my name. Well, I had about fifty bucks a couple days ago, but that disappeared with my clothes. If I felt naked back at Jack's old apartment in New York, I definitely feel it, now.

"Are you up to a visitor this morning?"

I try not to wonder who it is when I crack half a grin and say, "Some poor fool wants to see me before I've had coffee?"

"Funny. And yes, I think he's very anxious to see you. I think he's wanted to see you since you got here, but I'm not sure why he hasn't come in before now."

I lick my lips and swallow. "Send him in."

Dr. Shaw's eyebrows furrow curiously. "Don't you want to know who it is?"

"I know who it is." And I'm not sure if I hope I'm right or wrong.

She shrugs. "Okay, then."

The doctor walks out, and almost as soon as she leaves, that perky nurse pops back in. "TGIF!" she says. "Are you hungry this morning? I have raspberry jello, orange jello, lemon jello, watermelon jello…"

I notice a decidedly male body fill the doorway, and although I don't look at him, I can tell from my peripheral vision that I was right. I'm not sure how to gage his current state…probably because I haven't looked at him. Funny thing about that. I look down at my hands. "Nothing, thanks. I'm not hungry." That's a lie. Or, I think it should be. When did I last eat, anyway?

"Are you sure? We have pudding, too, and other types of food if you don't want jello."

"I'm sure," I say.

And then he speaks, his voice gruff, but softer than I've ever heard it. "Excuse me."

The nurse looks back at him, and then between us. She comes to some sort of conclusion that we'd like to be alone together because we're madly in love, because she giggles and nods like a bobblehead. "Okay, then," she says, quickly leaving the room. I wouldn't want to be the one to appraise her of the real reason we'd like some privacy.

Jack walks in, toward the center of the room, several feet away from the bed. "Hey," he says.

I rub my nose with my I.V.-free hand. "Hi."

He doesn't say anything else, and I force my eyes to look up. My eyes travel about halfway up his body, and then I instinctively drop them when I reach the middle of his chest. I don't know why. But the distance and the silence and the awkwardness are bothering me, and so I say, "I'm not going to bite, Jack."

It was about all the invitation I could muster, and he accepts it a few seconds later, walking forward to the side of the bed, to where a visitor's chair rests against the wall. He stands in front of it, rather than sits, and his fingers just barely graze the crisp white sheets. And I close my eyes, inhale, and then force myself to meet his eyes.

His eyes are blue. I knew this before, but it seems more important now. His eyes are blue, and pained. Regretful. Almost as regretful as the day Bill Buchanan died. That shocks me slightly; am I really worth that amount of pain and regret?

"I don't know what to say," he says finally.

I blink, and look down. "I can't tell you what to say," I say, and a déjà-vu feeling trickles down my back. My words parallel the words Jack had told me before he was wheeled away to the hospital, during the last few moments in which I'd ever thought to see him alive. The meanings are vastly different, though – he had been charging me with making choices I could live with. I'm charging him with finding the right words.

"There are a lot of things that I should say," he says. "That I need to say. And none of them feel adequate."

I know some of the things I need to hear, but I can't tell him what those are. Doing that would invalidate them, somehow.

Jack sinks into the chair, heavily. "I…I wanted so badly to believe that nothing would happen to my family… I've tried so hard to get out, for…years. I finally thought I was, and then an old informant knocked on my door, and…"

"…everything went downhill from there," I finish for him. We smile grimly, sadly, brokenly, at each other, remembering the day we met for the second time.

"Then when we flew to California, I thought my life was finally reaching some kind of…I don't know. 'Trickle-down phase.' When Chloe called for help, I…I felt like I had to go. It wasn't entirely like you said. Yeah, I wanted to, but more importantly, I _needed_ to. But I told myself that I wasn't going to lose a single person, not one. That's…" He closes his eyes. "That's why I asked you to stay behind. I'd be more likely to lose you if you came with me."

"You didn't really think I'd be able to protect your family?" I ask, pained.

"No. I don't think you'd need to." He pauses. "I snapped when I came back and found out that Stephen couldn't find Teri. Or Kim. I just…lost it."

"I know what it's like to lose it," I murmur. I'm not sure it's the same thing, though. But maybe it is? Maybe my losing it with Vladimir directly parallels Jack losing it with his own devil's misfortune.

"I'm sorry," he says. He lifts a hand toward my cheek, then stops, and the hand falls back against his side again.

"Go ahead," I whisper. "Touch it."

Jack hesitates, then gently touches the bruise he left across my left cheekbone. It's not a horrible bruise – I know, I saw myself in a mirror yesterday; that wasn't a pretty sight – but it is visible. "It doesn't hurt," I say. "It or my neck." There's a ring of very faint bruising around my neck, too.

"That doesn't excuse me," he says darkly, lowering his hand. "I had no right to so much as touch you."

"I would rather you'd have," I say. "I don't care about the bruises, Jack. I don't like them, but they'll heal. That's what happens. Bruises heal." I wave at my shoulder. "Bullet wounds heal." I look down at my wrist and hold it up slightly. "Even cuts heal. But…" Do hearts heal?

"But?" he says.

"I've never felt pain like when you told me you…you couldn't believe you loved me." I doubt that moment would top the list of worst moments in my life, but it was definitely among the top three or four. I'm not sure where to rank it exactly. Was it worse than my father's death? My mother's? Was it worse than torturing Wilson, and then being tortured by my own guilt? Where does one generally rank losing their boyfriend on these types of lists?

"I can't tell you how sorry I am for that," he says. "If there was something I could do to take them back, I would. But I can't. All I can do…" He pauses, and looks down, as though preparing himself for something difficult. He looks up, a pleading look in his eyes. "…is beg for the chance to earn your trust back. Your trust and your love." My expression must look pained, because he surges onward, saying, "I know I don't deserve it, but any amount of time. A week. A day. Anything. Please."

"You never lost my love," I whisper. Disbelief freezes his face. "My trust, though…that's another thing entirely."

His nostrils flare with a huge inhale. He looks so upset. "Just say the word…" he says, "and you never have to see me again."

I shake my head. "I don't want that, Jack."

"What do you want?" he asks softly. "Anything. We can make it happen."

We. I like the sound of that, even over the inner raging of my secret feminist. I have two great desires. They're sitting on a podium, sharing it unhappily. One is my desire to be with Jack, to have a warm relationship and a family. The other is my desire…my _need_…to never be one of those battered women, who keep returning to the men that hurt them. I swallow. Can I really have both, or will one shove the other off the podium out of spite? And if I can only have one, which will win?

"Why didn't you visit me yesterday?" I ask.

"…I didn't think you'd want to see me." The same words as those he spoke to me when we met the second time, in CTU New York, only spoken this time with much more cause behind them.

I take a moment to breathe. I don't think, I don't remember, I just breathe. I look into his eyes while I take my moment. When the moment's over, I say, "I want us to try. No time limits. No ultimatums. Just…just us, back together. To see how it goes."

Jack huffs in relief. His eyes are watering, to my surprise. "Thank you." He wipes his forehead, and then covers my hand gently with his. "Thank you."

Maybe he shouldn't thank me. I didn't totally lie – I'm not going to give him a time limit or an ultimatum. But I am going to give him the ultimatum's lover: a condition. He can't hurt me again. I don't mean the bruises, because hell, I might snap and throw a punch at some point, too. God knows I've already stabbed him once. But he can't hurt my heart again. I'm not sure I, Renee Walker, could survive it. Because when I became Zadan to save Teri, a large part of me wanted to stay like her. Forever.

"I'll extent our hotel reservation, if I can. If I can't, I'll get us a new room," Jack says.

"No," I say.

"What?" he says, confused.

"Get the West Lake apartment," I say.

"Are you sure…?"

I can hear the unfinished question clearly: Am I sure I want to be getting an apartment with him, when I'm not even sure if I'll ever trust him again? When I might leave him at any moment? Well, I won't be just leaving him at any moment, but I understand where he's coming from. "Jack, I'm not sure about a lot of things. But there are some things I know perfectly, and among them, is that I'm tired of living in a hotel. I want…I want a home, Jack."

He nods slowly. "Okay. We'll get the apartment." He rubs his thumb over my hand. "Renee?"

"Yeah, Jack?"

"I know you don't exactly trust me right now, and for good reason. But…how you feel about me…you said you still love me. Is that one of the things you know perfectly?"

I close my eyes. It's not just that I'd go anywhere for him, I suddenly realize. It's that I'd do anything for him, too. It's scary, but also thrilling. A little bit troubling, and very, very strange. This is what love is, I suppose. Scary, thrilling, troubling, strange.

I open my eyes, and meet his blue ones. "Yeah, it's one of them."

* * *

Writer's Note: I know I said I probably wouldn't update this week, but tomorrow's exams are going to be easy as pie, I uploaded the last chapter today, to celebrate my last official day of pre-cal. (WHOO!) I had originally planned for there to be two more chapters, but it just sort of worked out that the ending occurred in one big chapter. So yep, this is the end of _Anywhere_, to be followed by a sequel: _The Redemption We Seek_. Hope you liked _Anywhere_. I had lots of fun writing it. :)


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